


I Find You Still

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Xenophobia, Domestic, Dreams, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kidfic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Potentially Terminal Illness, Professor!Spock, Temporary Amnesia, Vulcan Mind Melds, alternate realities collapsing, aos canon character death, bond-breaking, friends to lovers speedrun, married but not really, not actually an AU, scientist!James T. Kirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: As a human warp scientist living on Vulcan, Jim Kirk is bondmate and t’hy’la to Spock, a Vulcan VSA professor, and proud father to T’Kiha, their daughter. It’s picture perfect domesticity, and Jim couldn’t be happier. Except Sarek still doesn’t like him, T’Kiha is getting in trouble at school, and Jim and his team are having unexpected problems with their current research. Worse, Jim is having headaches and nightmares that no doctor can explain. As the symptoms worsen and Spock develops them too, the bondmates must search for a cure while trying to maintain the rest of the life that they cherish. What they discover will change everything.
Relationships: Amanda Grayson/Sarek, George Kirk/Winona Kirk, James T. Kirk/Spock, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 172
Collections: T’hy’la Bang 2020





	I Find You Still

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the T'hy'la Bang 2020 and I'm so excited to finally be able to share it! This idea took root in my head and demanded I write it, and I think I got the mind-fuckery of Star Trek just about right. I hope you like it. 
> 
> Thanks a million to my betas, charlietinpants and unicornspaceinvasion. Also all the praise to [czarfleet](https://czarfleet.tumblr.com/), who did the [incredible](https://czarfleet.tumblr.com/post/621199409661820929/i-find-you-still-by-agentstannershipper) [art](https://czarfleet.tumblr.com/post/621191045641797632/i-find-you-still-by-agentstannershipper) for this fic! Go give her some love!
> 
> The title comes from a Sara Teasdale poem that I'm currently obsessed with: "I Am Not Yours."
> 
> _I am not yours, not lost in you,  
>  Not lost, although I long to be  
> Lost as a candle lit at noon,  
> Lost as a snowflake in the sea._
> 
> _You love me, and I find you still  
>  A spirit beautiful and bright,  
> Yet I am I, who long to be  
> Lost as a light is lost in light._
> 
> _Oh plunge me deep in love - put out  
>  My senses, leave me deaf and blind,  
> Swept by the tempest of your love,  
> A taper in a rushing wind._

Jim smiled as he woke up. His eyes were still closed, squeezed shut against the warm amber light fading in through the open-air windows, but the lack of sight didn’t mean the surroundings weren’t familiar. He could feel the dry desert heat wafting in on the breeze, and another heat, burning even hotter, pressed against his side. The bed was soft, the linen sheets sheer and flimsy, designed for this weather, but Jim could barely feel them because he was laying half-atop a firebrand, whose limbs happened to be encircling him like a set of particularly obstinate tentacles. There was strength in those limbs, enough to crush him and certainly enough to hold him still, but Jim smiled anyway. He wasn’t afraid, could never be afraid of that hold.

“Mmm,” he hummed, feeling the body shift beneath his own. He snuggled closer, sliding one calculated thigh between his lover’s legs and earning a soft moan in return as something long and already half-hard stiffened further at the pressure. “Good morning to you too,” he purred.

A head nuzzled into the crook of his neck, teeth scraping lightly over the pulse point, worrying what he knew was going to be a bruise into the tender skin. Jim groaned in appreciation, trailing his hand down through thick whorls of chest hair, reaching for-

Three sharp bangs sounded at the door like old-fashioned gunshots, pausing for half a second and then starting up again. “ _Daddy_. _Sa-mekh_. Wake up!”

Jim rolled off with a groan, this one considerably less satisfied, but there was a new kind of warmth bubbling through him, an amusement this time, and not just his own. He fell back against the pillows, turning his head and opening his eyes. Spock blinked back, his black hair in disarray from sleep, his brown eyes fond. Jim reached out on instinct, running two fingers along Spock’s hand, and the Vulcan mirrored the gesture. “Hey,” he murmured.

“Good morning, ashayam.”

Jim propped himself up on one elbow, leaning over Spock to steal another kiss, when the pounding sounded again and he pulled back, chuckling. “Just a minute, kiddo!” he called, sitting up and rummaging over the side of the bed for some pants, finding his and throwing Spock’s at him. They hit the Vulcan in the face, and he spluttered. Jim loved him like this: so early, Spock wasn’t collected enough to be all eyebrows and head tilts. Not that Jim didn’t love those either, of course, but there was something thrilling about those first waking moments, when Spock was still half asleep and almost human.

Jim got his pants on, nearly tripping on the trailing black fabric, insulated against the plunging cold of the desert nights but hardly the most dignified thing to be wearing in the light of day. He glanced back over his shoulder, just long enough to ensure that Spock was similarly clothed, the sheets folded primly over his lap for extra coverage, just low enough that anyone who looked could be sure he wasn’t naked. It was a clearly calculated gesture, and it drew a grin to Jim’s lips.

He wrenched open the door, looking down at the little girl on the threshold. “Hey, baby! Sleep well?”

T’Kiha regarded him with narrowed blue eyes. She stuck out her lower lip. “I want breakfast!”

Spock rose from the bed to join Jim in the doorway, lifting one eyebrow at the petulant five-year-old. “You are aware of the kitchen’s location. Were it pressing, you could have provided food for yourself.”

Her head tilted, considering that piece of logic, and then she stamped her foot. “No! I want breakfast, now!”

Jim laughed. “You heard the lady, Spock.” He scooped her up, bouncing her in the air to make her giggle, and then hoisted her against his hip. “So, what’s it today, baby?”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes it is!” Jim crowed. He strode down the hall, towards the stairs and the kitchen below.

Behind him, Spock called, “You are far too lenient with her.”

Jim turned, still holding their daughter, and gave Spock a beaming smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll put fruit in the pancakes. It’ll be healthy and everything.”

Spock gave him a skeptical look, but a pulse of amusement rang across their bond. He stepped back into the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click, and Jim looked down at T’Kiha again. “Alright, baby,” he told her. “You want to help me make the batter?”

T’Kiha was thoroughly sticky by the time Spock joined them, her cheeks smeared with pancake batter from her enthusiastic beating at the bowl. There was probably as much on her as was going into the pan, but Jim couldn’t be too bothered. He didn’t mind cleaning up the mess, not when she looked so cute making it. He shot a playful leer at Spock, projecting an image of the dark robe the Vulcan was wearing, tailored to perfectly accent his lithe form, and emphasizing just how good it would look back on their bedroom floor. Spock ignored him, taking a seat on one of the stools by the island, picking up the knife to slice the kin’zah with practiced strokes.

T’Kiha’s head jerked up, her dark curls plastered to her forehead as she stopped stirring, smacking the wooden spoon against the counter so that a splat of batter inadvertently hit Spock’s cheek. “No! No kin’zah!”

“As a growing child, you require-“

“No!” She banged the spoon again, and more batter hit Spock’s face. He blinked slowly, lifting an eyebrow, but did not wipe it off. T’Kiha turned imploringly to Jim. “ _No kin’zah_ ,” she insisted again.

“Sorry, baby,” Jim told her. He passed Spock a cloth, and Spock cleaned his face. “Sa-mekh is right. You’ve got to eat your fruit if you want to grow up big and strong.” At least kin’zah tasted better than the earthen bananas they resembled. Give him an apple any day.

T’Kiha considered his words. “Like Daddy?” she ventured.

“Just like Daddy,” Jim agreed. He shot Spock a triumphant look, then took the bowl of batter from T’Kiha, pouring out a few pancakes onto the pan on the stove. His hair was as messy as T’Kiha’s: his might have been blond instead of black, but it curled in the heat just like hers did, plastering itself to his head in ringlets. It helped that the kitchen, like much of the house, was open-air, and so provided a cross-breeze, but standing next to the stove when it was on was still hellish. It was still better than using a replicator. Jim liked cooking morning meals with his daughter and, growing up on a farm, he had never really developed the immunity to bland replicator food that so many people had these days. He’d get lunch most days from a replicator at work, but breakfast and dinner, if he wasn’t too tired, were prepared by hand. He wiped his brow and smiled to himself. It would have been nice to have Spock’s help, but the Vulcan was all but incapable of cooking, and what little he could make was so bland as to be tasteless to Jim’s palate. But that was alright. It was logical for people to contribute equitably to a household, so that all involved could enjoy more free time for family or leisure activities, and for all Jim liked cooking, he hated doing the dishes. So, everything worked out fine.

From the island, Spock said, “I received a communication from my parents while I was dressing. They wish to know if we will still be attending their dinner this evening.”

“I don’t see why not.” Jim reached back, taking a piece of kin’zah and popping it into his mouth. The rest he swiped to dump into the simmering pancakes, flipping the disks once the slices had set in a little. “We don’t have any conflicting plans, do we?”

“Negative. I have a meeting with the Academy board this afternoon, and it has pushed my last lecture back an anticipated one-point-three-four hours, but I should be done well before our expected arrival time. I’m sure you’ll be able to keep T’Kiha occupied after you pick her up from school?”

“No sweat.” Jim nudged his daughter with his leg. “We’ll go for a walk, right baby? Maybe visit Sa-mekh when he gets out of class?”

She nodded an affirmative, and Jim leaned down to rub a smear of batter from her pointed eyebrow with his thumb. It did little in the way of cleaning her off, but any step in cleaning up a messy five-year-old was a win in Jim’s book. Free of the kin’zah, Spock fetched a cloth from the sink and knelt beside T’Kiha. He made it about halfway through cleaning her before she was squirming away, snatching the wooden spoon and banging it against the island as she circled it, leaving more smudges in her wake. “Pancakes!” she shouted. “I want pancakes!”

“Pancakes are almost ready, baby!” Jim told her. He flipped the first one onto the plate. “Let Sa-mekh clean you up, okay?”

“No! Pancakes!”

Jim turned, and pointed at her with the spatula. “Only clean little girls get pancakes. Messy girls who won’t let their sa-mekh clean them get oatmeal.”

At the mention of the dreaded breakfast food, T’Kiha went pale, freezing in place. Jim didn’t blame her; he’d never liked oatmeal in general, but the Vulcan variety was even worse, even more bland and gritty than the human version, and – as luck would have it – one of those few things that Spock could make not only well but quickly. The threat worked. She surrendered the spoon to Spock and let him finish wiping her down, from the tips of her pointed ears down to the splatters that had somehow made it to her bare feet. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, holding herself very still as Spock sat back and surveyed his work. Jim breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

He flipped another pancake onto the plate and handed it to Spock, who lifted T’Kiha onto a stool and set it in front of her. She managed to wait for the silverware, but didn’t bother with syrup before she dug in, scarfing it down so fast Jim worried she’d make herself sick.

He passed Spock another plate, with a hand on his waist and a kiss to his cheek, and took the third for himself. His he did douse in syrup, ignoring the look Spock shot his way.

 _We should look into bringing an Earth doctor out_ , he thought, knowing Spock would hear him. _She’s as fidgety as I was as a kid._

 _She is young,_ Spock answered without speaking, blinking placidly at Jim from across the island _. She may grow out of it._

Jim snorted. _Not likely. Not if she’s anything like me._

T’Kiha banged the end of her fork on the island. “Not fair. No talking without me.”

“It’s grown-up stuff,” Jim reassured her. “Very boring, I promise.”

She studied him suspiciously, and then dismissed it and went back to her pancakes. Jim shot Spock a look. _I’d feel better if we spoke to someone. She’s already having problems at school. I just don’t want it turning into a bigger issue._

Spock nodded sagely. _Very well. I shall speak to my mother. She may have a recommendation from my own childhood._

 _Thanks, love_.

The answer was not words, but another wave of love that wrapped around Jim, squeezing him in a mental embrace that he leaned into and returned before Spock’s presence receded again.

His head twinged, and he swore. “Shit, _ow_!”

T’Kiha’s head jerked up, her eyes wide. “Daddy said a bad word!”

“Jim, are you alright?” Spock reached across the island, grasping his wrist, and Jim shook his head, trying to push the dancing spots away from his eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He waved them both away, rubbing his forehead. “It’s just a headache. Probably from the heat. Vulcan summer is no joke.”

Spock rose, fetching a glass of water and pushing it insistently into Jim’s hand. He drained it, and the throbbing dulled, fading away into the background. He rubbed two fingers along Spock’s hand in thanks. “I’m fine, really,” he insisted when the Vulcan continued to hover. “Come on. We’ve got to get T’Kiha to school before we’re all late.” He pushed away the rest of his pancakes and stood. “Let me go get changed, and we can go, alright?”

Spock nodded, but the worried look did not fade from his eyes. Oblivious, T’Kiha reached around him and stole Jim’s pancakes right off the plate.

Upstairs, Jim braced himself against the bathroom sink, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on his breathing. He splashed some water on his face, and then patted it dry with a towel, staring into the gilt-edged mirror. The image was familiar: the same messy blond hair that refused to be tamed to the Vulcan heat. The same blue eyes that his daughter had inherited. The same golden skin, richer in color than it ever had been on Earth after nearly ten years under the Vulcan suns. There was a light dusting of stubble on his jaw that he would have to shave, and he was definitely starting to get a few creases around the eyes, but overall not bad for a thirty-year-old rocket scientist. At least he wasn’t balding or going prematurely grey. That was one thing he wasn’t sure his ego could take.

A soft knock on the bathroom door interrupted him. “T’hy’la?” Spock asked. “May I enter?”

“Yeah, come in.” Jim pushed off from the mirror just in time for Spock to open the door and step through it, closing it behind him.

“If you are unwell-“

“It’s just a little headache, Spock,” Jim promised. “I’ll keep a water bottle on me at work. You can even send me comms to remind me to drink, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Spock inclined his head in agreement, and Jim cupped his cheek, indulging in a long, slow kiss. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against Spock’s and smiled. “Hey. Don’t worry about me.”

“Illogical, as you are my bondmate. I shall always be concerned when you are in distress.”

“Concern’s an emotion, you know,” Jim teased.

The corner of Spock’s lips quirked. “Indeed. However, I find with you a little emotion is…acceptable.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Jim gave him one last kiss, and then shooed him off. “Okay. Let me throw a shirt on-“

“You should shave as well-“

“Yes, _mom_ ,” Jim gave Spock’s rear a smack, and his partner shot him a look that, even when relegated solely to the eyes, still managed to be scathing. “Stop distracting me, or we’ll be in here all day.”

Spock exited the bathroom, and Jim’s smile dropped. His head still smarted, and he knew Spock could tell. He cupped his hands under the faucet and took a drink. He was probably just dehydrated. He’d be fine by dinner.

Getting T’Kiha to school was less of a hassle than breakfast was. She skipped out ahead of them, her school robes swishing around her ankles, laughing as she jumped over cracks in the reddish pavement. It earned her a few disapproving looks from passersby, but Spock lifted his chin and stared at them, daring them to speak ill of his daughter. None did.

“You know,” Jim said, leaning in close so he could whisper. “It is all kinds of hot when you do that.”

They had still been within earshot of the last Vulcan, an old man who stiffened and shot Jim a look, using only his eyebrows, that managed to be both disapproving and scandalized. Jim smirked back, and the man jerked around and hurried off.

He looked back to Spock, who was watching him with amusement. “What?”

“Given that you could have contacted me mentally, I am forced to conclude that you did that on purpose.”

“Maybe.” Jim dragged the word out in a drawl, pleased when it made Spock’s eyebrow arch even farther.

“Pretending innocence is ineffective. I know you better than that.”

“Alright, yeah.” Jim looped his arm around Spock’s, stopping just shy of taking his hand. After all, he didn’t want to be truly scandalous. “But don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“Quite the contrary,” Spock murmured. He leaned in a little closer, and his breath was a warm whisper against Jim’s ear. “To adopt the phrase, I find it ‘all manner of hot.’”

 _Yeah, baby,_ Jim teased, _talk human to me._

Spock did not visibly roll his eyes, but Jim felt the sensation nevertheless.

T’Kiha didn’t even wave to them when she got to the school gates, hollering a goodbye over her shoulder as she bounded towards the doors. Halfway to them, her pace slowed, deliberately adopting even steps, clasping her hands politely behind her back. It couldn’t hide her eyes or hair, but the change was still obvious. Human to Vulcan. A fine line for a child to walk.

He felt a shadow cloud Spock’s mind at the thought, and he murmured, “Hey. She’ll be fine.”

“She will find her way, as I did,” Spock agreed, but the feeling did not lift.

Jim squeezed his arm. “Let’s go. The VSA waits for no one.”

“Indeed.” Spock inclined his head, and they continued on.

Officially speaking, Jim didn’t work for the VSA. He worked collaboratively with their research program in an exchange of scientists that dated back to before Spock’s mom had been a participant. It was how she had met Sarek. It was how he had met Spock.

He left his bondmate on the front steps with a brief finger kiss, ignoring the looks surrounding students and faculty sent their way. After over a decade of Spock’s attendance at the VSA, and nearly eight years bonded to a human, Jim had expected the novelty of the half-Vulcan and his mate to have died down. It had not, but at least Spock was treated with respect now. When he’d first attended, there had been rumors he was only allowed to participate because he was the son of Sarek, their family name providing influence and possibly – scandalously – pulling strings to ensure his continued studies regardless of his aptitude. Spock had proved them wrong, excelling in every class he took, and by the time he had obtained a teaching position, his colleagues had begun to look at him with something akin to admiration.

“I’ll see you after work,” Jim promised. Spock opened his mouth, and Jim headed him off, wiggling his water bottle. “I’ll stay hydrated.” He blew the Vulcan a kiss, walking backwards, and grinned when the tips of Spock’s ears flushed ever so slightly green. “Love you!”

 _And I, you,_ Spock returned, before entering the building in several long strides.

The labs were mercifully cool when Jim stepped inside, and he moaned in relief, the air conditioning hitting him like a block of ice. “Dear god, that’s nice.”

A blue head popped up from behind a desk to grin at him. “Keep it in your pants, Kirk. Keep making sounds like that, and a girl might get ideas.”

Jim laughed. Ivressih Sh’taasros, or Ressi, as she’d insisted Jim call her when he butchered her name for the third time, was just about the best lab partner he could have asked for. He hadn’t asked for her, and when she’d first been assigned to work with him he’d even been a little put out by the cultural clashes between human and even Vulcan and Andorian culture. But, by the end of the second month, he didn’t know how he had ever managed without her. She could be a little bold and brash, which suited Jim just fine – after all, he could be too, if the mood arose – and she had a wicked sense of humor. He was a little regretful that Spock didn’t find her as funny, but he supposed that made sense. Vulcan jealousy did not mix well with Andorian assertiveness, and even though Spock was aware that Ressi’s advances towards Jim were only in jest, Jim couldn’t blame him for being a touch frosty towards her. He was, at least, polite, and had never censured Jim for their friendship.

She sat back, kicking her bare feet up on the lab bench and crossing her legs. “I’ve been going over the data from last night. The simulations aren’t looking any better.”

Jim sighed. He grabbed a stool, dragging it over to the bench and taking the PADD Ressi handed him, his chin propped up on one elbow as he scanned the readouts. He rubbed his temples and took a swig from the water bottle. “Have you got T’Mura or McCallan on this yet?”

She shook her head. “T’Mura won’t be in until later. She commed late last night. Apparently, her bondmate went into labor.”

“Oh. Well, congratulations to them.”

“And McCallan hasn’t looked at it because who the fuck even knows where he is.” Ressi snorted, cursing with the ease and relish of someone who’d been around humans too long. “I swear, when we started this, you actually had to be _good_ to get into the exchange program. You at least had to be _there_.”

“He’s a kid. You know. Late nights at parties, getting to know the locals. Living fast and free and careless. You remember being like that.”

“Nope,” she popped the p, “and neither do you. _I_ was born with a tricorder in one hand and a textbook on theoretical physics in the other. _You_ were born married to Spock. Not a lot of room for parties in either of our lives.”

Jim scoffed. “I was not born married to Spock.”

Ressi raised her eyebrows, and her antennae twitched. “Isn’t that what your disgustingly sappy telepathic soulbond whatever is all about? ‘In this life and the next, never and always touching’ and whatever?”

“I mean, kind of, but…” Jim trailed off. He didn’t really have much of a defense. Before Spock he hadn’t exactly been the life of the party, unless of course that party was an astrophysics conference. As for after…well, as far as Jim could remember, that had pretty much been it for him. One look and bam. Soulmates for life. Theoretically for lives, plural, but Jim was still a little skeptical about Vulcan concepts of reincarnation, no matter how nice the thought of being eternally bound to Spock sounded on paper.

His head throbbed and he winced. He took another swig of water and smacked the bottle down on the table, followed by the PADD. “Alright. I want to reset the parameters. If we reconfigure them for a larger window, we can narrow the field from there.”

Ressi took her feet down. “That’s assuming, of course, that we’re on the right track here. Otherwise, this’ll be another month wasted.”

“Nah. I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” Jim said. He gave her his most winning smile. “Have I ever steered us wrong?”

“In the lab or outside it?” she countered.

“Shut up,” he told her good-naturedly. She made a hand gesture that Jim had learned about seven years ago was actually an Andorian sign of ‘fuck right off,’ and not the symbol of platonic affection and respect Ressi had originally told him it was. He’d found that out the hard way, at a function of Sarek’s. Ressi had nearly passed out laughing. The Andorian ambassador had been far less amused.

Ressi bent over the computer terminal, stabbing a new set of parameters into it almost haphazardly. “Dinner still on with the in-laws tonight?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Jim spun around in his chair, letting the momentum carry him in circles. “It’s like everyone expects me to ditch or something.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I still can’t imagine having Ambassador Sarek as a father-in-law.”

“He’s…been better, since T’Kiha was born,” Jim said. Of course, better was relative with Sarek. “Amanda likes me, though. She sent me an article, the other day. Gardening study, looking at how to introduce domesticated alien plants to an ecosystem without turning it into an invasive species.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Ressi drawled.

Jim looked around for something to flick at her head and came up short. “It’s bonding material. We bond over growing plants and then cooking them. It’s our thing. Besides, just because it’s not _theoretical physics_ doesn’t mean it isn’t interesting.”

She jabbed a finger at him. “Hey, I find other things interesting too. Chemistry. Tellarite poetry. Those Vulcan philosophy debates over the most precise and accurate interpretations of Surak’s teachings.” She tilted her head, contemplating. “That face your daughter makes when she knows you fucked up and Spock is about to call you out on it. That’s a good one.”

“Ha, ha.” Jim bumped her with his hip, nudging her away from the console and taking over. “Can you check and see if McCallan has commed in yet? If he hasn’t, we should send a message to make sure everything’s alright.” He sat back and considered the screen. He felt like there was something staring him in the face. Something they were missing.

“You forgot a zero, idiot,” Ressi leaned over him to plug it in, rolling her eyes. “Stick to voice commands if you’re going to be such a scatterbrain.”

“Right.” Jim drummed his fingers as Ressi checked the comm for messages. That wasn’t what had been bothering him. He took another drink, swallowed, and then opened his mouth, before she interrupted him with a communication from T’Mura, letting them know that her bondmate had given birth to a healthy baby boy, and one from McCallan, apologizing profusely for oversleeping and promising that he would be in as soon as possible. Sufficiently distracted, Jim forgot what he was going to say.

He ducked out early, leaving Ressi and McCallan – an enthusiastic twenty-two-year-old that Jim swore could have made Starfleet Academy if he hadn’t been spooked by the entrance exam, and who had turned up, scarlet-faced and still apologizing profusely, shortly after he had commed – to tend to the equipment. His headache, blissfully, was almost completely gone by the time he stepped back into the blazing Vulcan heat. Sweat immediately began to bead on his forehead, and he huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he wiped his brow, and set off towards T’Kiha’s school.

She was waiting for him outside the gates, apparently unaffected by the heat, her school robes neat and pristine where Jim’s clothes were rumpled and damp with sweat. The moment she caught sight of him, her perfect posture disappeared, and she hurled herself at him, shrieking in delight as he caught her and spun her around. He skidded to a stop, dizzy, and kept a tight hold on her as he bent over to pant, chest heaving. “You’re getting heavy, kiddo. Pretty soon Daddy’s not going to be able to pick you up anymore!”

She giggled, burying her face in his neck. “You’re stinky.”

“Well then,” Jim said, “why don’t we go home so I can take a shower, and then we can go visit Sa-mekh at school. How does that sound?”

She cheered an affirmative, and Jim set her down, allowing her to scamper ahead while he strolled leisurely behind, keeping an eye on her. She was probably old enough to walk to and from school on her own, although he was loath to admit it. He knew several of her classmates did already. And although Spock hadn’t brought it up, Jim knew that in two years, he’d expect her to undergo the kahs’wan with the other children her age, and begin her passage into Vulcan adulthood. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. She was growing up too fast.

They reached the house shortly, and Jim left her downstairs with a PADD, reviewing her schoolwork, while he went upstairs to shower. Vulcan might have been a desert planet, and its inhabitants largely water-resistant, but their technology for drawing water safely from their surroundings, without damaging the ecosystem, was really something to be admired. Jim was pretty sure he used as much water showering as Amanda did keeping her garden green, a fact Spock took great, if hidden, delight in teasing him about.

He left his sweat-damp clothes on the floor, pulling out a fresh set – these ones white and blue linen, and much more suited to a dinner at Sarek’s house than a day in the lab – and leaving them on the bathroom sink while he stepped into the shower, changing it from the sonic setting that Spock favored to a lukewarm stream that felt almost frigid compared to the air outside. He just had to make it to nightfall, he reminded himself as he soaped up, and the temperature would become much more bearable.

He changed the setting back again when he was done. Spock was observant often to the point of being fastidious, but there had been more than one incident where a particularly long and eventful day had left Spock too distracted to check the setting, and the result of a Vulcan getting a face full of unexpected water was not particularly good news for Jim. Bondmate telepathy meant that Vulcans had their own version of being relegated to the couch that made being _actually_ relegated to the couch, as far as Jim was concerned, the preferable option.

He dressed quickly, relieved to feel that the temperature was already starting to drop outside as the suns made their way towards the horizon. He fetched the overnight bag Spock had thoughtfully left on the bed, slung it over his shoulder, and rejoined his daughter on the first floor before they headed off in the direction of the VSA.

Classes were nearly out for the day. T’Kiha kept close to Jim’s side, clinging to his leg so close that it nearly tripped him more than once. The halls of the Vulcan Science Academy were tall and intimidating, looming as though the weight of them might collapse on you at any minute, and their footsteps echoed on the tiled flooring. They were also nearly empty, and nearly every room Jim passed boasted some class, the students deeply engrossed in whatever they were doing. It was a far cry from the human high school Jim had attended, and even the university where he’d gotten his degree had had its fair share of slacker students. Jim wasn’t sure Vulcan slackers existed. At least, he had yet to meet one personally.

He located Spock’s class at the end of one of the long hallways, packed with students hanging on to Spock’s every word. Jim slipped in the back, hoisting T’Kiha into his arms and listening as Spock closed out his lecture and dismissed the class, the students rising and filing out, casually discussing the points of interest amongst themselves. Jim slid between them, making his way down the steps towards the podium, greeting Spock with a brief kiss. “Hey. How was class?”

“It was as it always is,” Spock replied, accepting T’Kiha from Jim with ease. He looked down at her. “And you?”

“I got to go up a level in maths!” she told him, beaming with pride. “And I didn’t even get in trouble today.”

“Your progress in your studies is commendable.” Spock inclined his head to her. “And I am pleased your father and I were not required to speak to the administrators on your behalf.” Jim held back a wince at the withheld ‘again’ and reminded himself – and Spock, across their bond – that they ought to speak to Amanda that night. Spock’s disciplinary issues had been different from T’Kiha’s, but since Jim had never had the benefit of learning to cope with his own distractibility beyond his parents plunking him down in the most advanced school they could find to keep him busy, Amanda was their best resource for keeping T’Kiha out of the principal’s office. So to speak.

“We should go,” Spock said, voicing Jim’s unspoken concerns. “My parents will be waiting.”

It was not uncommon in Vulcan families, particularly those as prominent and respected as Spock’s, for the children to inherit a wing of the house or an expanse of the grounds, so that several generations of a family unit could remain close. Spock did indeed have a wing of Sarek and Amanda’s house for his personal use when he desired it, but Jim could hardly blame him for wanting to move out. He stared up at the massive front door as Spock signaled the chime. The intricately carved, decorative door knocker stared back. The sehlat’s fangs were bared. No number of visits could make Jim comfortable with that door knocker. It reminded him too much of Sarek.

The door opened and Amanda smiled at them. She was dressed lightly, like Jim, although her garments were light brown and her hair was wrapped up to protect her head from the suns, a sure sign she’d been working outside recently. “You’re right on time,” she told them, ushering them inside. “Sarek’s just arrived home from the embassy, and dinner will be ready shortly. Jim, if you want to help…?”

“Of course,” he replied, just barely managing to cut off the instinctual ‘ma’am’ that wanted to follow. Amanda preferred the informality, but that didn’t make it easier to use. He cast a glance back at Spock. _You going to be okay alone with your dad?_

_I will not be alone. T’Kiha will be with me._

Jim nodded. Sarek may not have been an easy parent for Spock, but he was a doting grandfather to T’Kiha. Jim, he seemed…more ambivalent about, but Jim was at least convinced that Sarek no longer outwardly hated him.

 _My father never hated you_ , Spock reminded him as Amanda dragged Jim away in the direction of the kitchen.

 _Easy for you to say,_ Jim shot back, with a look over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised. _You’re not the one he grilled about ‘intentions.’ He didn’t make_ you _provide character references to_ my _family._

_He was ensuring you would be a suitable bondmate for me._

_He was convinced I was going to steal your virtue before your mating cycle hit and we got married._

He didn’t have to be looking at Spock to know his bondmate was blushing. It would be faint, just the tips of his ears and the lightest shade of green on his cheeks, but it would be there. The mention of pon farr did that to Spock, and the mention of his first pon farr in particular, the only one they had shared together thus far, at an admittedly early age for a Vulcan and shortly before T’Kiha had come along, was of particular embarrassment for Spock.

_Given the circumstances, he was clearly incorrect._

Jim grinned, conjuring up the memory of Spock, wide-eyed and panting, flushed with exertion and whining with need when the blood fever had hit. _Four years of celibacy was worth it just for that_. Vulcan courting rituals were ridiculous. It had taken nearly two years just to provide Spock’s clan with sufficient reason to remove Spock’s childhood betrothal bond and form the preliminary link with Jim instead, and then he’d had to wait another two for Spock’s mating cycle to kick in, without any more than a little teenager-style fumbling in the meantime. By that point, Jim had been so eager to feel something besides his own hand that he’d come, untouched, pretty much the moment Spock plunged into him, splitting him open with his thick cock. It was a fantastic memory, and Jim couldn’t help but clench in response.

 _We are in my parents’ house_ , Spock admonished. _Please behave yourself._

 _Never_ , Jim promised, and grinned. He could feel the lascivious thoughts still bleeding over into his bondmate, and with a look Spock narrowed the link. Jim got the hint. His head twinged again but he ignored it, leaving Spock and T’Kiha behind to seek out Sarek while he followed Amanda into the kitchen.

Theirs was a sight to behold, like much of the rest of the house. It was the ancestral home of Spock’s family, stretching back even before the time of Surak, and had been designed to accommodate a large staff of servants and slaves, both of which had been common in the pre-reform era. Vulcan no longer condoned slavery, and even they didn’t use servants now, although Jim knew Amanda employed a part-time housekeeper, T’Lita, to help her keep it clean. The lack of bodies made the kitchen look huge every time Jim stepped inside, seemingly bigger for the pale pink and white stone that made it up. At least such a high ceiling meant the worst of the heat rose, and made cooking a good deal more tolerable.

“You can start in on the vegetables,” Amanda told him, passing him the cutting board and a heaping pile of vegetables. The carrots had to have come from her own garden, but the assortment of Vulcan root vegetables, along with the cucumber-like fek’yar, could have just as easily come from the market. Still, Jim suspected those were hers too.

“I’ve got strawberries for dessert,” Amanda called over her shoulder as Jim began to cut. She stirred the pot on the stove, simmering happily in the heat. “Flew them in special from Earth. None of that replicated nonsense. And real whipped cream, for those of us with the taste buds to enjoy it.”

Jim laughed. He finished with the first fek’yar and grabbed the second, grinning to himself as he sent Spock an image of his hand, pumping the firm, green length of the vegetable. In response, Spock sent him an image of Sarek standing beside him and a scathing, albeit wordless reprimand before slamming his shields up. Jim’s head throbbed, and he clutched the counter, the knife slipping from his hands and landing on the counter with a clatter.

“Jim? Jim!”

He felt Amanda’s hands as his back, and shut his eyes tight as his world spun, stars alighting behind his eyelids. He waved her off. “I’m fine. Just dizzy. I’ve had the damnedest headache today, and I can’t seem to shake it.” It might have sounded more convincing without the strain in his voice, but getting the words out was a herculean task.

Spock’s shields lifted, and immediately Jim found his balance again. He took a deep breath, and then another, as Spock’s concern bled across their bond. Jim pushed back reassurance, but since he didn’t quite feel it himself, he knew it rang hollow for Spock. _We’ll talk later_ , he promised, and Spock obediently withdrew. Jim straightened, picking up the knife again, and dispelling Amanda’s hovering with another wave. “I’m good.” He took the fek’yar again and went back to cutting. “There was actually something Spock and I wanted to talk to you about, though.” Amanda could be persistent when she wanted to, and the sooner the subject was changed the better.

She lifted her eyebrows, looking momentarily like a much softer version of her husband. “Oh?”

“It’s T’Kiha,” he said, keeping his eyes on his hands even as he felt Amanda’s curious gaze at his back. “She’s been having a bit of trouble in school lately.”

“I see.” Amanda sighed. “Spock was around this age when he started to have trouble too, if I’m not mistaken.”

“She’s not getting in fights or anything,” Jim hastened to add. “And if the other students are picking on her, we haven’t found out about it. Vulcan isn’t…well, they might not be as progressive as they pretend, but they’ve gotten better, I think, since Spock was in school. But she’s been having trouble focusing. We’re not sure if it’s a matter of the lessons being too easy for her, or a lack of emotional control, or what. We were hoping you might be able to recommend a specialist.”

“A specialist?”

Jim nodded. “You know. Someone who works with kids, who can help us figure out what the problem is and do what we can to fix it.” He gave a wry laugh and shook his head. “I mean, I was the same way, and it bugged the hell out of me and everyone around me. If my dad hadn’t set me straight when he did, I might be in a very different place right now.”

“Or, maybe you would have set yourself straight, and made it here anyway.” There was amusement in Amanda’s voice. “I’m sure T’Kiha will sort herself out in time, especially with the amount of support she has from you and Spock.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jim finished with the fek’yar and pushed them aside to make room for the carrots. “I just want to check every possibility. There aren’t exactly a lot of part-Vulcan kids kicking around, and I don’t want anything to hold T’Kiha back.”

“Well, I can find you a few options,” Amanda said. “You can send them a message if you want. I won’t tell you how to parent.”

“Might be easier if you did,” Jim admitted. The carrots went with the fek’yar and he moved on to the next. “I feel like I’m flying blind with her. I don’t want to screw it up.”

“That’s what parenting is.” Jim looked up, over his shoulder, and saw Amanda looking at him. “We’re all just guessing,” she continued with a smile. “And if _I_ had to hazard a guess, I’d say you and my son are doing a marvelous job. I don’t think you’ll steer her wrong.”

“Thanks,” Jim told her. He scooped up the chopped vegetables and brought them to her, dumping them in the pot at her command. “What’s next?”

Dinner didn’t take much longer; with the heat, the vegetables softened quickly, and the stew was ready to be served within an hour. Sarek and Spock were talking quietly when Jim and Amanda brought it to the table, and Jim took his place beside his bondmate. Sarek occupied the head of the table, with Amanda to his right, and T’Kiha to his left, the little girl staring at her grandfather with adoration even as she shoveled soup into her mouth. The way she had been eating lately, Jim would have bet anything that she was going to hit another growth spurt soon.

Halfway through the meal, Sarek posed a question to Jim about his current research, and Jim scrambled to answer coherently, describing the theory and the current path they were taking. Jim couldn’t be sure why Sarek was interested in warp drive physics, beyond the fact that Sarek tended to be interested in knowledge for its own sake as much as practical use, but he couldn’t shake the feeling it was an attempt to undermine him.

 _That is illogical,_ Spock insisted, his face carefully devoid of expression. _He has nothing to gain by undermining you._

Unable to communicate a message in his head while simultaneously answering Sarek’s questions, Jim settled for a skeptical glance at Spock, with one of his eyebrows raised for good measure.

Dinner finished, and Amanda excused herself to bring out desert. Sarek took the opportunity to dab at his mouth with his napkin, then return it to his lap as he said, “Your parents contacted me two-point-seven-four days ago, James. They are apparently contemplating a trip to Vulcan, and sought our opinion on accommodations.”

Jim blinked. “Oh?” was all he could say. It was news to him.

“Do you know why they chose to comm me instead of you?”

“No idea.”

“Hmm.” Sarek looked thoughtful, and then dismissed it with the briefest shake of his head. “It is no matter. They will be here next month for a short visit while on shore leave. Amanda and I have agreed to accommodate them.”

“We have the space, after all,” Amanda cut in, bringing the dish of strawberries in, along with a smaller dish of whipped cream. T’Kiha’s face lit up at the sight of both, and she reached out for it.

Jim did too, and then jerked to a stop as Spock threw an abrupt arm in front of him, halting the action. “Jim!”

“What?” Jim glanced around at the surprised faces – even Sarek’s eyebrows were raised higher than usual – and then at his bondmate.

Spock looked perplexed, and he slowly withdrew his arm, setting it in his lap and folding his hands together. “I…I was struck by a peculiar thought.”

“Peculiar how?”

“For a moment…” Spock’s brow furrowed, as it did when he was attempting to puzzle something particularly elusive out. “For a moment I became convinced that strawberries were an allergy of yours.”

Jim blinked, and then laughed, shaking his head. “I’m _definitely_ not allergic to strawberries, Spock. See?” He picked one up, popped it in his mouth, chewed and then swallowed. “All good. No allergic reaction.”

“Of course.”

Jim tilted his head back, thinking. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have any allergies. Not that we know of, anyway.”

“I am aware.” But the confusion was not gone from Spock’s voice. Or rather, Spock’s voice was the picture of Vulcan neutrality, but Jim could still feel the confusion anyway.

He changed the subject, scooping up a healthy dollop of whipped cream as he did so. “You know, there’s this conference coming up on Altair IV in a couple months. It’s after Spock’s school year is up, and we were thinking about going. A lot of big names in the sciences are supposed to be there. Any chance we could get you two to watch T’Kiha while we’re gone?”

The conversation eased on into the evening. Shortly after dark, T’Kiha began yawning, and although she protested initially, once Amanda offered to be the one to put her to bed the fight went out of her, although she did manage to bargain a bedtime story out of Sarek in the process.

“We’ll keep her in our wing,” Amanda murmured to Jim and Spock as she rose, giving them a knowing look. “I’m sure you two won’t mind having some space to yourself.”

“Definitely not,” Jim agreed, although he could feel a faint red blush staining his cheeks at the knowledge that his mother-in-law was encouraging their sex life. He couldn’t find it in himself to care that much, though. It had been too long since he and Spock had been able to find the time. That morning had been a perfect example.

They bid Amanda and Sarek goodnight, kissing their daughter in turns, and then parted from the others, heading towards Spock’s wing of the house. It was sparsely decorated, as Spock had never truly made it his own in his adult life, but the bedroom was spacious. The sheets were light, but it was late enough in the evening that Jim no longer felt the heat. At least, not in that particular sense.

He turned, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck and pressing into a kiss the moment they passed through the doorway, attempting to push Spock back against it. His bondmate indulged the kiss but stood rooted, and when Jim pulled back Spock took both hands in his. “I believe there is something we still need to discuss.”

“If it’s who’s on top, the answer’s you.” Jim refused to be deterred, freeing his hands to encircle Spock’s waist, rocking their hips together and sliding a hand down.

Spock caught it before it could reach its destination and, having been thwarted for the second time that day, Jim pouted. “ _Spock_.”

“Please desist from distracting me.”

“I like you distracted,” Jim muttered petulantly. He took a step back and folded his arms. “What’s the problem?”

“Your headaches have not gone away.”

Jim blinked at him, then snorted and scoffed, “I had one day of headaches, Spock. That’s hardly cause for alarm.”

“On the contrary, a day of persistent headaches, with no sign leading up to it, and no immediately obvious cause is an acceptable reason to be concerned.”

“So, I’m dehydrated.”

“You are not.” The look Spock leveled at him was 100% logical Vulcan. Jim could practically see the calculations whirring behind his eyes. “Even assuming you consumed no water outside my presence – which I believe to be incorrect – the rate of consumption should indicate a balance as your body returns to normal states of hydration. Additionally, your water intake has not been significantly lower than usual, nor your exertion levels or the temperature particularly higher in recent days. The factors do not correlate with the results.”

“Then it’s work stress, Spock, come on.” Jim dropped onto the bed, propping himself up with his hands. “We’ve been hitting a lot of walls trying to sort this out before-“

“You forget, Jim,” Spock took a step closer, and still standing he loomed over Jim, although the image was far from menacing, “I share your mind, t’hy’la. I feel your feelings. I would know if you were experiencing undue stress, and you are not.” He hesitated, and his expression softened. “I do not intend to fight, ashayam. I merely wish to express my concern, and entreat you to visit a medical professional soon if the headaches do not abate. It is true, there may be nothing wrong, but it is logical to seek confirmation about the potential risks of unusual health symptoms.”

“Alright,” Jim relented. He took Spock’s hands, threading their fingers together and relishing the way it made Spock twitch, his spine straightening and his pupils dilating. Jim swiped his thumb along Spock’s palm for good measure, and wet his lips reflexively, grinning as Spock trembled. “If it makes you feel better,” he purred, “I’ll call up the old sawbones tomorrow.”

“Saw…bones?” Spock’s question was stuttered, a result of Jim’s continued stroking of his fingers.

“Mmm.” Jim leaned in to nuzzle against the back of Spock’s hand, pressing kisses around the wrist. “Old Earth slang for doctor.”

“I…surmised. It sounded—” Spock sucked in a sharp breath as Jim nibbled at his knuckles “—vaguely familiar.”

“Might have mentioned it before,” Jim said dismissively. “Good word. Fun to say.” He looked up, locking eyes with Spock from where he was doing indecent things to the Vulcan’s hands, things that were making Spock quiver like he would collapse onto the bed – onto Jim – at any moment. “Now, why don’t we forget about it, hmm, and do something a little more interesting than a vocabulary lesson?”

“I agree.” Spock disentangled their fingers suddenly, and Jim found himself scooped, shoved back towards the headboard and covered with over 180 pounds of blazing hot Vulcan. He moaned and wiggled encouragingly as Spock thrust against his hip, his hard cock a firebrand through his black robes and Jim’s lighter ones. Getting out of them didn’t take much, and the only utterance from either of their mouths for the next several hours were Spock’s deep, guttural moans and Jim’s high-pitched begging for more. For all Jim’s teasing, Spock was considerably thicker than a fek’yar, and it had been way too long.

After they’d finished, Jim settled back against the sheets. It might have been cold out now, but sprawled against Spock, their skin both still flushed with exertion, was the perfect temperature for him. He hummed with content. “You’re perfect at that.”

“Your performance is satisfactory as well.”

Jim laughed, smacking Spock lightly on the arm. “And they say romance is dead.” He turned onto his side, resting his head on his arm and staring at Spock, tracing the details of his face in the darkness. “I mean it. Every time with you…at the risk of sounding cheesy, it’s like the first time all over again.”

“You only believe so because you have been denied so long,” Spock pointed out, matching Jim’s position. “Were we to engage in coitus more often-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim cut him off, laughing. “We have a kid and next to no sex life, so what we have feels better when we can get it.”

“Precisely.”

“Clearly, I married a romantic.”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “You married a Vulcan.”

“That I did.” Jim flipped positions, getting comfortable, and Spock pressed up behind him, spooning him. Jim settled. He could see the stars through the window, clear and bright against the black velvet of the sky. He had half a thought, drowsy and absurd, that if he reached out, he might just be able to touch them.

“I wouldn’t trade it,” he mumbled into his pillow, closing his eyes. “Not you, not T’Kiha. Wouldn’t trade you for all the—” he yawned, his head buzzing “—all the sex in the universe.”

“I am gratified.” Spock’s voice was drier than Vulcan, but the amusement was plain underneath the words. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Jim’s cheek. “Go to sleep, t’hy’la.”

With the pressure on his skull building again, dragging him down into darkness, that sounded like a really good idea, and Jim willingly obeyed.

***

_“-god-damnit, Jim-“_

_“-need to get them to sickbay before-“_

_“-how long-“_

_“-found them half an hour ago, just about-“_

_“-god-damn pointy-eared-“_

_“-need to stabilize-“_

_“-hang in there, Jim, I’ve got you-“_

_***_

“Mmph.” Lucidity pulled Jim upwards, out of the blue-grey murk of dreams and towards the morning sunlight. He reached back behind him, feeling the empty mattress, and propped himself up, looking around. The sound of sonics turning off grasped his attention, and he relaxed as Spock stepped out of the bathroom, blinking at him for a moment before crawling back into bed. Jim closed his eyes again, pulling Spock’s arm over him. “What are you doing up?”

“I am sufficiently well-rested.”

“We don’t have anywhere to be. You could stay in bed.”

Spock nosed along Jim’s neck, a move that made Jim grin even with his eyes closed. “You make a compelling point.”

Jim tightened his grip on Spock’s arm and pressed his hips back, enhancing the contact. “I had weird dreams.”

Spock paused. “Explain.”

“I don’t know.” They were already slipping away from him, as dreams had a habit of doing. Still, the feeling of having them remained. “There was a lot of shouting, I think. Someone…someone was upset.”

“About what?”

Jim cast about, straining his memory, even letting Spock in automatically when the Vulcan probed in an attempt to help, but there was nothing to find. Jim slumped. “Don’t know,” he said.

“I believe I experienced a similar dream.”

“Yeah?”

“While uncommon, bondmates sharing dreams is-“

Jim grinned. “You’re naked, and pretty much wrapped up in me. I do know how touch telepathy works.”

“I do not recall it any better than you do.”

“Came from my head,” Jim reasoned. “Makes sense.” He rolled over. “T’Kiha still with your parents?”

“Presumably. I have not seen her since she went to bed last night.”

“How long do you think we have before our presence is demanded?” Jim allowed his eyes to flick down to Spock’s mouth and linger there before dragging upwards again. “After all. Nowhere to be…”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed, and captured Jim’s lips in a searing kiss.

It took them awhile to make it to breakfast. Or rather, by Spock’s terms, it took them another two-point-four hours to return to the main portion of the house, where Amanda had already cleared away the plates from breakfast and was preparing to serve lunch. She shot them a knowing smile, and Jim again resisted embarrassment. It was easier this time; knowing his mother-in-law knew her son was giving Jim mind-blowing orgasms was a lot easier to cope with _after_ the orgasms in question were experienced.

He slung himself into the seat beside his daughter and ruffled her hair. Sarek shot him a look of mild disapproval. He had attempted to convince them before to cut T’Kiha’s hair into a more traditional style, an argument which Jim had pleasantly rejected. T’Kiha liked her curls, and it was just hair. She could do what she liked with it as long as she remembered to brush it, although at age five, Spock still largely carried out that particular task for her.

“Did you sleep well, baby?” Jim asked T’Kiha. She nodded, not looking up from where she was scribbling on a PADD. Jim exchanged a look with Spock, laughter sparkling across their bond. “Well then,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair with a grin, “since you’ve been having such a good time, why don’t Sa-mekh and I leave you here? We can go home, have a nice, quiet house all to ourselves…” He wiggled his eyebrows at Spock. “And you can stay with Sa’mekh’al and Ko’mekh-il forever. How does that sound?”

Sarek blinked and opened his mouth to speak. Judging by the non-expression on his face, Jim expected it was to accept the welcome, if illogical, offer to have full control in raising his granddaughter. However, he was cut off by T’Kiha’s head jerking up, her eyes wide. She threw herself at Jim. “No! I want to stay with you! Don’t leave me, Daddy!” Tears bubbled up, streaming down her cheeks unexpectedly. She whimpered. “I want to go home. I’ll be good.”

A pang went through Jim’s heart and he cuddled her close, stroking her back. “Hey, shh, it’s okay. I was kidding, baby. Of course you’re coming home. Sa-mekh and I wouldn’t let you go for anything. You’re our baby girl.”

She sniffled, burying her head against Jim’s chest. Sarek raised an eyebrow at him, but Jim couldn’t be sure if it was a ‘your daughter is showing illogical human emotions again and you should consider doing something to fix it’ eyebrow or a ‘perhaps you are not a fit parent if you’ve made my granddaughter cry and therefore leaving her here might very well be in her best interests’ eyebrow. Probably both.

Spock cleared his throat. “Your father was making a joke, T’Kiha. He merely meant to point out your disinterest with him this morning, considering the attention you give him on more standard days. He and I love you very much, and we would be remiss as parents were we to have someone else raise you when we are both willing and capable.”

Jim shot a look at Sarek, and he knew Amanda was doing the same. The older Vulcan appeared very interested in the PADD T’Kiha had abandoned. Although Spock had never told Jim explicitly about it, he knew about Spock’s efforts to gain his father’s attention, his love. It had taken bonding with Jim, having a daughter, and cutting off nearly all contact with his parents for the words to be forthcoming. T’Kiha peered out, eyeing Spock from her position against Jim’s chest. Jim kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “It was a mean joke.”

She nodded once, in that firm, stiff way of children who feel slighted but are already on the road to forgiveness. The tears were already drying. She twisted in Jim’s lap, reaching for her PADD again, and he fetched it for her, watching over her shoulder as she played with it. Amanda took the opportunity to finish serving lunch, and Jim accepted his plate with a nod and a smile.

“When do you and Spock have to be off by?” Amanda asked him as she took her own seat. “Do you have the whole day free?”

Jim nodded. “We figured we’d stick around awhile, if that’s okay with you. We’ll be out of your hair before bedtime.”

“In that case,” Amanda said, “I’d love for you to spend some time in the garden with me. I’ve been trying some tricks, from that article I sent you, and I really think-“

She was cut off by a soft chiming. On instinct, Jim turned towards the door. Sarek coughed discreetly. “I believe you are being contacted, James.”

“Huh?” Jim fumbled, patting his pockets and coming up short. Spock gave him an odd look, and Jim flushed. “Can’t find my communicator.”

It was clearly wrong, and he felt it as soon as he’d said it. He wasn’t carrying a communicator. He never carried a communicator, and hadn’t since his semester of fieldwork at university. He shook his head, nudging T’Kiha off his lap and avoiding Spock’s eyes. He could feel his bondmate’s worried gaze, even without the feeling passing over the link. He yawned pointedly, if falsely, as he meandered over to the comm panel by the door. As an ambassador, Sarek had them fitted into every room in the house, so he could take calls.

Jim hit the button on the panel. “Kirk here.”

“Oh, good,” Ressi’s voice poured over the speaker, just a touch frazzled. “I tried your house, but you weren’t home, and then I remembered you were spending the night with the in-laws, but I wasn’t sure comming an ambassador’s house was a good idea, but-“

“Ressi.” Jim glanced back at the table, where Spock and his family were watching Jim with varying degrees of interest. T’Kiha was scribbling again. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “We can’t explain it. T’Mura registered some weird readings last night, but it was a blip. Then suddenly this morning, things started going haywire! We need all hands on deck here.”

“I’ll be there.” Jim shot Spock an apologetic look, and his bondmate bowed his head in understanding. “See you in a few minutes.” He cut the call. “Sorry, Amanda. Gardening will have to wait.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah.” Jim swooped by the table just long enough to kiss the top of T’Kiha’s head, and then Spock’s cheek. “I’ll see you once this is sorted.”

“Bye, Daddy.” T’Kiha waved without looking up. Jim smirked at Spock over her head and shook his. The corner of Spock’s lip twitched.

“Alright,” Jim patted his pockets again, realized there was nothing to bring, and then headed out the door. With one hand on it, he paused, and looked back at Sarek. “Hey. How’d you know the call was for me? It didn’t say.”

Sarek raised both his eyebrows. “It was the most logical choice. Amanda only receives communications from individuals in this room. I do not receive unscheduled calls; if the embassy requires my presence, they send the information to one of my PADDS. Therefore, the call could only be for you or Spock, and given the limited number of people who were aware of your presence here today, you were the most logical recipient.”

Jim forced a smile, even as he shot Spock a _what the fuck_ sensation across their bond. “Sure,” he said. “Makes sense.” _That makes literally no sense, Spock._

_It is…logical._

_There’s no way Sarek could-_

_Jim, if you do not depart, you will be late._

Right. Jim kicked his brain back into gear and left the house, sehlat doorknocker glaring at him on his way out.

The lab was in disarray when he stepped inside. It wasn’t as cold as usual, for one thing, which meant that Ressi and T’Mura had been too preoccupied to bicker over the temperature controls. There were PADDS scattered across every flat surface, so that you couldn’t see the lab benches beneath them, and his team was steadfastly ignoring them, all three of them huddled around one of the computer terminals, Ressi elbowing T’Mura out of the way every time the Vulcan leaned in to hover closer and McCallan dancing nervously from foot to foot behind them, trying to get a clear view without coming into contact with Ressi’s elbows. He jumped when Jim set a hand on his shoulder, stepping aside for the more senior scientist without a word.

“What have we got?” Jim asked.

“Still no idea,” Ressi hissed between clenched teeth. “I can’t make heads or tails of this reading-“

“It is inscrutable,” T’Mura agreed, which wasn’t a good sign. Jim could count on one hand the number of times the Andorian and the Vulcan had shared an opinion, and it never boded well.

“Are we going to lose the data?”

“Data’s coming in just fine,” Ressi said. “We just don’t have a clue what it _means_.”

“They’re going to stop the project.” McCallan was doing his nervous dance again. “They’re going to say it’s too dangerous and shut it down.”

“They’re not going to shut it down,” Jim gave the kid a sharp look. McCallan gulped. His given name was Peter, Jim knew, but he said that going by his last name made him feel less like a baby in the lab. It didn’t matter; his youth was definitely showing now. “Vulcans don’t shut down projects because they have unexpected results. They _like_ unexpected results from this kind of research.”

“Like implies emotion-“ T’Mura interjected.

McCallan cut her off, “They only like it if it doesn’t explode!”

“It’s not going to-“ Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, nudging Ressi to give him access. The computer beeped indignantly, the sound mirrored by the Andorian, but both quickly caved – Ressi at the expression on his face and the computer under the security of his commands. It took a minute to access the project files properly through the new information stream, but he was finally able to shunt it off into a new sub-routine to examine the changes.

“There we go.” He gestured to the screen. “Alam’ak had an unexpected radiation burst that interfered with the sensor readings”

T’Mura relaxed with understanding, and Ressi settled, but McCallan still looked nervous. “Radiation’s bad, though, isn’t it?”

Sweet kid. Maybe in the wrong field. “It is no worse than a solar flare from Sol, your own sun,” T’Mura explained.

“Well, no worse for us,” Ressi muttered. “But now we’ve got to reset all the simulations. The ones we’ve been running are useless now.”

“We’ll keep the altered data,” Jim said, “but Ressi’s right. It’s going to take all day to reset the tests, so let’s get to it.”

They scattered – well, Ressi and McCallan scattered. T’Mura wasn’t capable of doing more than floating regally at a slightly heightened pace. Jim snorted to himself. What he wouldn’t do for some Vulcan composure every now and again.

His head twinged and he shook it. Maybe the radiation burst had something to do with his headaches. He’d ask the doctor when he saw him. He’d just have to remember to make that appointment.

***

_“-the results-“_

_“-we can’t isolate-“_

_“-don’t tell me what I already-“_

***

“Hey!”

Jim jerked, blinking rapidly from his newfound seat on the floor. Ressi stood over him, her arms crossed, antennae twitching. Jim’s own arms were sore, presumably a result of using them as a pillow on top of a lab bench. He dragged himself back to his feet and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Ressi said. “McCallan and T’Mura already went home for the night. You should go too.”

“Did we finish-“ A yawn cut off the rest of Jim’s question.

Ressi snorted. “We’re finished for the night. We’ll need a couple more days on the machine to get it running properly again. The radiation really did a number on the systems.” She shook her head, grinning. “Just when I thought I’d handed Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass her last coil spanner.”

“You should be nicer to T’Mura,” Jim told her. He stretched, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. He was getting too old to be falling asleep on lab benches.

“Why?” Ressi teased. “Afraid to give Spock another reason to think I’m a bad influence on you?”

“Hardly.” Jim grinned back. “T’Mura’s an engineer, and in my experience, engineers are scary-good at improvising. The last thing I want is to show up at the lab just to find out that she’s rigged the temperature controls to stay at Vulcan-comfortable, just to get back at you.”

“Spend much time around engineers, do you?” Ressi mocked.

“I-“ Jim stopped. He’d been certain he did, but for the life of him he couldn’t name one, besides T’Mura, of course. Maybe back at school…

He shook it off, his smile coming back. “Besides,” he recovered, “you know she’s bonded to a ke-tarya instructor. T’Pella could fuck you up without breaking a sweat.”

“Vulcans don’t sweat.”

“Exactly.” Jim pointed a finger at her.

Ressi swatted it aside. It was obvious she was holding back a laugh. “ _Go home,_ Jim. I’m sure that _wonderful_ Vulcan husband of yours is waiting anxiously for you.”

Actually, a quick probe of the bond found Spock fast asleep, and although there was an undercurrent of trepidation to his dreams, there was more confusion than anxiety. Spock was clearly fine without Jim’s presence.

He gave a cheeky mock-salute anyway. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And be back early tomorrow,” she called after him. “I’m not doing all the work just because your bony ass doesn’t want to get out of bed!”

“My ass is fantastic, and you know it,” Jim called back, and laughed when she flipped him the Andorian bird.

The house was dark when Jim got home, but that was to be expected. He tip-toed, feeling a bit like a character from the old Earth cartoons he’d seen as a child, but he didn’t want to wake T’Kiha. Getting her to sleep was more of a hassle than Jim had expected from a Vulcan child, even if she was only about a quarter Vulcan. She certainly didn’t like Spock’s logical arguments about the importance of bedtime.

Jim grinned to himself, and slipped into their bedroom. Spock was curled up on Jim’s side of the bed, his face pressed into Jim’s pillow. It wasn’t clear if he’d fallen asleep that way, or simply shifted during the night, but it was adorable either way. Jim stripped, not bothering to find his pajamas in the dark, and nudged Spock gently until he shifted enough for Jim to cuddle in next to him.

The motion made Spock stir, his brow furrowing even without opening his eyes. “Jim?”

“Go back to sleep,” Jim murmured.

“I will rise soon anyway. I do not need as much sleep-“

“As humans, I know.” Jim snuggled into Spock’s chest. “All the more reason not to interrupt it.”

Spock’s arms encircled his waist. “I am glad you are home.”

Jim made to answer, but by the way Spock went lax against him, it was clear the Vulcan had already found his way back to sleep.

He didn’t think to tell Spock about the murmurs in his dreams. They were as inconsistent and vague as the others had been, although he got the feeling they were in the same vein. Not that he had much of a chance to tell Spock anything; by the time Jim was up, Spock had long since vacated the bed and brought T’Kiha off to school, leaving Jim to scarf down leftover pir mah – burnt, Spock always burnt it, and Jim winced and sent a mental apology to T’Kiha, knowing she wouldn’t be able to feel it but delighting in the distracted indignation Spock sent in response – and hurried to the lab. The temperature controls had not been tampered with, not that Jim really expected T’Mura to stoop to anything so childish when there was work to be done, but Ressi did throw him a “look who decided to show up” the minute he walked through the doors. He apologized, shooting a reassuring wink to McCallan, who seemed pleased not to be the late one for a change, and dove into the fray with them.

Jim knew a thing or two about computers. He couldn’t really remember where he’d gotten so good with them – presumably one of the various academic institutions George and Winona Kirk had seen fit to throw their troublemaker son into – but it was a skill set lodged firmly near the top of his repertoire, which meant that adjusting the computer fell to him while T’Mura and Ressi worked at their prototype and McCallan scurried between, offering assistance wherever he could and ducking whenever Ressi swung a hyperspanner in his direction.

When they broke for lunch, Jim had a message waiting for him on his PADD. Spock had sent him a communication, reminding him to contact a doctor, and the fact that he’d felt the need to send a physical message, one Jim would have a harder time brushing off than a mental reminder because Spock could _prove_ Jim had gotten this one, was enough to make Jim set up the appointment he’d forgotten to make. He still couldn’t help pulling a face while doing it. He had nothing against Healer Solok, his primary physician. The Vulcan was extremely knowledgeable of human biology – presumably because of his studies off-world – and his bedside manner was better than Jim would have expected from most Vulcans. It was just that Jim didn’t really like doctors even when there was something wrong with him, and while the headaches hadn’t really gone away, he also didn’t think they were enough to kick up a fuss about. But Spock wanted him to go, so Jim would do it, for his bondmate’s peace of mind.

He sent Spock a communication too, telling him not to wait up again. They were in for another long day.

***

It took Ressi smacking him with a fuse coupler to get Jim’s attention, and even then, it was slow going to rouse from the screen he’d been buried in for the past several days, save the few brief hours he’d been able to slip home for some much needed rest. He scrubbed at his eyes, glancing between the Andorian, who was still wielding the coupler, and T’Mura across the room, who was doing a wonderful job of pretending she wasn’t watching the exchange while she scribbled onto a PADD.

“You got a communication,” Ressi said, with the air that this was not the first time the words had passed her lips. She shoved a PADD under Jim’s nose. “When you didn’t pick up, Spock resorted to comming _me_.”

Jim took the PADD. His heart sped up and he swallowed, mouth suddenly cotton. If Spock was willing to contact Ressi just to reach him, whatever the Vulcan wanted was probably important. He skimmed the terse message, and his heart sank.

He passed the PADD back to Ressi. “I’ve got to go.”

She didn’t look surprised. “We’re almost done with the recalibrations anyway. Barring another radiation spike, we should be able to finish up without you.”

“When I get back, we’ll look into putting in some safeguards against solar flares.”

“I have already begun drawing up some possible alternatives,” T’Mura said from across the room, dropping the pretense of not listening but still not looking up from her PADD. “We will address them tomorrow. Attend your mate.”

“Right.” Jim gave Ressi a small, tight smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Good luck.”

He was going to need it.

The Vulcan Learning Center wasn’t exactly Jim’s idea of a good educational environment, but more so than that, it gave him chills the moment he stepped inside, in spite of the Vulcan-appropriate temperature. The exterior of the building blended in well with the older architecture of the area, but the interior had the sleek shine of ever-advancing technology, a perfect symbol of Vulcan’s attempt to blend tradition with the eternal quest for knowledge. All Jim knew was, the pits creeped him out. He would have gone nuts in school if they’d dropped him in a pit and told him to solve math equations by himself. He probably would have tapped into the circuitry and turned it into a flight simulator or a holovid screen.

The hallways were mostly empty as he moved deeper into the building, passing rooms of those pits, classrooms designed to build interpersonal skills (even Vulcans understood the importance of socialization), meditation centers, and lunchrooms with lines of little Vulcans eating in silence while their instructors watched over them. It had none of the charms of Earth education: no raucous children bouncing around the halls between classes, no paper airplanes flying down the corridor. Admittedly, he did see a cluster of children gathered by the entrance to one of the classrooms, but they appeared to be engaged in a quiet debate, and they ceased speaking as he moved past them, their eyes tracking Jim until he was out of earshot, then returning to their conversation. In trying not to make it obvious that he was watching them over his shoulder, Jim nearly missed the door he was supposed to enter.

Principal offices, no matter the planet, were always the same.

Maybe not always. Jim suspected Klingon principal offices involved disciplinary rods that had long since been outlawed as punishment implements for children on Earth. There was in fact a wall of ancient Vulcan weaponry, dating back to the pre-reform era, displayed with pride on the room’s rear wall, but Jim suspected that using them on children was prohibited. Or, more likely, not even considered. Given the nervous conversations he’d had with Spock when preparing for T’Kiha to come into their lives, Vulcans considered it highly illogical to use physical punishment on children because it inspired fear in authority figures and did little to correct aberrant behavior. Jim wished some people on Earth would get the memo. Not his parents - they’d been good to him - but he had a strong feeling that there were people on Earth who should be kept well out of reach of children.

Jim offered a tentative ta’al to Elder Toval and took a seat beside his bondmate, who glanced his way without a change in expression. The movement, however, was accompanied by a surge of emotion over their bond, as if Spock in hyper-Vulcan mode needed somewhere to put the excess emotion. There were tinges of annoyance at his lateness, but when Jim sent back an apology it receded, leaving only the sense of worry – and a slight hint of shame – in its place.

Between them, just behind the chairs, T’Kiha stood, staring at her shoes and toying with the folds in her robes. Her lower lip was trembling. There was no nameplate on Elder Toval’s desk – not that one was necessary, given the number of times Jim and Spock had been called in to speak with the elder who ran the Learning Center – but a le-matya ornament stalked the edges of it, fangs bared with menace. It made Sarek’s doorknocker look downright friendly.

“James Kirk.” Elder Toval did not return the ta’al, a gesture which made Jim sink a little lower in his seat. Instead, the elder steepled his fingers together, eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared beneath his bowl cut. “It is good of you to finally join us.”

Jim opened his mouth to make an excuse, and then closed it again. It was no mystery to him where _this_ headache had come from. “My apologies, Elder.”

“Elder Toval has been informing me that T’Kiha has again been disrupting the learning of the other students in her level,” Spock informed him. His voice belied none of the tension zinging over their bond, and Jim barely managed to school a wince. The Learning Center always seemed to bring out the worst in Spock, shutting down every trace of his human side.

Toval inclined his head. “Intellectually, T’Kiha is advancing as anticipated. She is remarkably bright.”

Jim clenched his jaw. He could hear the words Toval wasn’t saying.

The elder continued, “She continues to fall behind the other students in mediatory exercises, but that is to be expected.”

“We have been performing additional exercises at home,” Spock said. “To supplement T’Kiha’s learning here.”

“As well you should.” There was a note of mild approval in Toval’s voice, which Jim supposed was something. “A parent should play a hand in their child’s education, particularly where the Center is…less equipped.”

“That’s fine, Elder,” Jim cut in. He knew this spiel already. “But would you mind telling us why you called us in?” He kept the question ‘what did she do?’ from passing his lips. He wasn’t about to blame his daughter for something before he’d even heard the story.

“T’Kiha continues to antagonize the other students during their group learning sessions,” Toval explained.

“That’s not true!” T’Kiha burst in. Jim could practically feel her vibrating. “I didn’t start it!”

“Control yourself!” Toval admonished. “There is no logic in such an outburst.”

“But-“

“T’Kiha,” Spock said quietly.

She fell silent, looking between Jim and Spock. Jim resisted the urge to reach out to her, to tell Elder Toval to fuck off and carry his daughter out of there. He cleared his throat. “How did you determine this?”

“You are aware, of course, that this is not T’Kiha’s first infraction.” Jim tried not to flinch, and he knew Toval could feel it. “As such, her instructors have been watching her more closely, in an attempt to prevent further interference with the development of her peers. During a debate, T’Kiha attempted to verbally provoke another student, and when he did not react to her emotionality, then attempted to physically assault him.”

“I did not!” T’Kiha protested again. She slapped both her hands over her mouth, blinking big, pleading eyes at Jim. When none of the adults scolded her, she cautiously lowered her arms, folding them behind her back. Her voice level now, she said, “Navik made an error in his argument. When I pointed it out, he called me an illogical human, and said I did not comprehend what he was saying. But that’s a lie.” She shook her head. “I knew what he was saying. He was just _wrong_.”

“A lie and an incorrect observation are not the same,” Spock correctly mildly. “Did you initiate a physical altercation?”

“I did not.” T’Kiha stuck her chin up reflexively, and then her eyes went wide and she deliberately lowered it again, the motion stiff. Jim could see the tension in her clasped arms. “I stepped toward him, but I tripped on my robes. I didn’t mean to; I just fell.”

“That is not what your instructor reports,” Toval said.

“She wasn’t looking!” T’Kiha looked between her parents, then addressed the Elder again. “A Vulcan does not lie. Navik was incorrect; I am Vulcan, and therefore I do not lie. Instructor T’Sora’s report is based on unproven assumptions.”

It was too eloquent an argument for a five-year-old, Jim thought. The difference between this and his little girl who ran around the kitchen screaming about kin’zah was stark. About as stark as the line between his loving bondmate and the Vulcan who sat beside him now. Spock raised his eyebrow. “That is a serious charge to level against your instructor, T’Kiha.”

“It is the truth, Sa-mekh. Her report was logical. But it was wrong.”

Spock turned his eyebrows on Elder Toval. “I believe her. T’Kiha has never started a fight before, and I see no reason why this instance would demonstrate a change in that behavior.”

The Elder’s face had hardly changed, but Jim had lived with Vulcans for a decade now, and he could read the difference in Toval’s frown lines as easily as he could read Ressi’s antennae. There was irritation there, and reluctance. It was mild, but it was there. “Instructor T’Sora’s report is consistent with Navik’s, and both are contrary to T’Kiha’s. However, the similarities are such that any difference could be accounted for by perspective. It is true we are limited by our own senses. But the fact remains that T’Kiha continues to be a disruption to the other students.”

“She tripped!” Jim protested. “That’s not her fault. That happens!”

“The other students do not appear to share this problem.”

The line of Spock’s throat tightened. “I will add additional physical exercises to T’Kiha’s studies, to improve her sense of balance. Would that be an acceptable solution?”

“It would.” Elder Toval stood. So did Spock, and Jim all but leapt to his feet. Toval gestured them towards the door. “And, as always T’Kiha, please attempt to make this your last incident.”

“Yes, Elder.” T’Kiha’s eyes burned, and Jim could hardly blame her, but she held her composure as they left the room together.

It lasted until they hit the schoolyards, when T’Kiha grumbled, “I hate him.”

“Hate is an emotion,” Spock cautioned her, “and one best purged from ourselves.”

T’Kiha kicked at the ground. “He’s stupid.”

It took a lot of effort for Jim, who fundamentally agreed with both of his daughter’s statements, to intervene. “He’s not stupid, baby. He just…sees what he wants to see.”

“For all our attempts at logic, we still hold biases that are difficult to undo. Kaiidth.”

Jim could feel his bondmate’s own anger, as strong as T’Kiha’s if better hidden, and figured that was Spock for _he can cram his xenophobia up his ass._ He held in a laugh, and felt a tiny flicker of amusement amid Spock’s rage. He scooped T’Kiha into his arms. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go home.”

“We will still have to address the incident farther,” Spock said, but he didn’t sound particularly concerned, falling into step beside Jim as they made their way back to the house.

T’Kiha hid her face against Jim’s shoulder. “It really was an accident,” she mumbled. “Navik was being stupid and mean, but I didn’t push him. I just fell.” She peered at Spock. “Do I really have to do more exercises?”

Spock hesitated. “You are approximately three-quarters human. Your biology is not entirely designed for a planet with Vulcan’s gravity.” Jim shot him a look, and Spock relented almost instantly. “However, in place of exercises, I will better supervise you during active engagements, to ensure there is truly no problem. I do not foresee any issue. Even Vulcan children are capable of tripping, whether Elder Toval observes it or not.”

Jim grinned and nudged Spock with his elbow. “What was that about Vulcans not lying, again?”

“I did not lie to the elder. At the time, I fully intended to assign T’Kiha exercises. But I believe this is a more agreeable alternative, and if he questions me on it, I will tell him so.”

“Loopholes,” Jim snorted, still smiling. “Gotta love them.”

“Indeed.”

Jim set T’Kiha down when they entered the house, reminding her as she scampered off that he was going to start dinner soon, so she ought not get wrapped up in anything. Spock raised his eyebrows, shutting the door behind them. “You intend to stay, then?”

Jim rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. With everything going on at the lab, the past couple days have been…”

“Regrettable.”

“Yeah. I hate not being home with you guys. But we’ve got everything fixed up, so I promise, no more late shifts, at least for a while.” He extended two fingers hopefully towards Spock. “Forgive me?”

Spock completed the ozh’esta. “That was never in question, ashayam.”

Jim relaxed, their fingers still touching as he drew Spock in for a human kiss, resting his forehead against his bondmate’s when they parted. “I’m gonna start dinner, okay?”

“I will attend our daughter. I believe a light meditative exercise would be beneficial, considering the events of today.”

“Good call,” Jim agreed.

“Have you spoken to Healer Solok yet?”

“Tomorrow,” Jim promised. “I’ve got an appointment at lunchtime. But my head is feeling much better, I promise.”

“I feel your pain as well, t’hy’la. You may be accustomed to dealing with discomfort, but that does not mean it is not there.” Spock kissed him again. “Do not forget to eat, tomorrow at lunch. It would be illogical to see a healer in reference to one part of your health, while neglecting another.”

“Yes, sir!” Jim teased, and then blinked as Spock flinched. “Spock?”

“I do not…” It was rare to see Spock at a loss for words. The Vulcan shook his head minutely. “That addressal…”

Jim saved him from his struggle. “Yeah, it felt wrong to me, too.” He squeezed Spock’s arm. “Okay. Dinner.”

“Yes.”

They parted, but the weird, tight feeling in Jim’s chest lingered even as he continued into the kitchen to start the preparations. He worked quietly for a while, the motions practiced and mechanical, until he caught sight of T’Kiha clinging to the doorway, watching him.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “I thought Sa-mekh was going to mediate with you?”

“We finished,” she said. She tilted forward on her feet, as if resisting some gravitational pull into the kitchen. “Can I…?”

“Wash your hands and roll up your sleeves, and then yes, you can help me.” Jim grinned as T’Kiha scampered to do just that, pushing her sleeves up in bunches around her elbows. Jim moved the knives well out of reach and helped his daughter up so she could reach the counter. They’d made pre tarmeeli enough times that T’Kiha needed very little instruction, and so they were able to work in relatively comfortable silence.

T’Kiha was the one that broke it. “Are you going away again?”

Jim startled, and only just managed to avoid spilling spice powder all across the counter. “What?”

“You went away. It made me and Sa-mekh sad.”

Oh. Jim winced. “I’m sorry, baby. It made me sad too. But I’m not going away again for a while. My job is just hard sometimes.”

“If it makes us sad, why do you go?”

“That’s…” Jim rested his hands on the counter, leaning heavily on them. “That’s hard to explain.”

“I’m smart!”

Jim laughed and ruffled her hair. It left faint sparkles of yellow powder like stars against the black curls. “I know you are. But this is something that even Daddy doesn’t always understand. I guess I just…need to feel useful. My work is one of those ways I can do that.”

“And me?”

“Yeah, baby. And you.” Jim dropped a kiss on the crown of her head, then rested there for a minute, his eyes closed. When he opened them and straightened again, Spock was in the doorway, watching silently. They made eye contact over T’Kiha’s head, and the warmth that Spock wrapped around him all but smothered the lingering traces of guilt. He sent the warmth back, redoubled, and felt it like a phantom caress against his fingers.

He cleared his throat, pointing a fork at Spock. “Stay out of the kitchen, mister, or the consequences will be dire.”

“Yeah, no Sa-mekh,” T’Kiha crowed. To Jim, she stage-whispered, “Sa-mekh can’t cook.”

“I can cook sufficiently to nourish the body,” Spock said, but it was hardly a protest.

Jim and T’Kiha shared a look, and Jim grinned. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going to leave you with Sa-mekh’s cooking again.”

“It appears I am not welcome,” Spock said, with airs of put-upon hurt. He lifted his chin, making the move look so regal Jim’s heart actually panged. “I suppose I shall retire until dinner, assuming my company will not be rebuked then.”

“ _Babe_ ,” Jim laughed. “ _Come on_.”

“Appealing is no use. I now understand my place.”

“Sa-mekh, no!” T’Kiha hurled herself across the room, attaching herself to Spock’s leg and leaving visible partial handprints on his tunic. “Stay! We’re sorry!”

Spock looked down at her, and Jim could see his struggle to suppress a smile of his own, the half-Vulcan just barely managing to contain it to the tiniest quirk of his lips. “You speak for your father as well?”

T’Kiha looked back at Jim, imploring. “Daddy…”

Jim pretending to sigh. “ _Well_. I _suppose_ he can stay. As long as he keeps his hands away from the stove.”

“I am most gratified,” Spock said dryly, and T’Kiha whooped and went back to helping Jim cook. Spock took his customary seat at the island, and when Jim passed him he stroked two fingers over the back of Spock’s hand in thanks.

After dinner had been consumed, their daughter put to bed, and Jim and Spock returned to their own, Jim asked, “Do we meld with T’Kiha enough?”

He could tell the question surprised his bondmate, even if Spock didn’t show it. “I believe our efforts are sufficient.”

“I can’t even remember the last time I melded with her.” Jim stared at the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks that ran along the stone. “She was probably still a toddler then.”

“I believe it has been much the same for me.”

“Even with the meditation?”

“The exercises are designed to order one’s own mind. It does not help if I am guiding her mentally.” Spock wrapped his arms around his chest. “My father did not meld with me when I was a child.”

Jim turned onto his side to face him. “And we both know how much that messed you up as a kid.”

“I dislike the wording, but agree with the sentiment.”

“So we should meld with her more.”

“It may be beneficial.”

Jim yawned. “We can talk about it more tomorrow.” He rolled onto his other side, settling as Spock spooned him. “I’m really glad I’m home again.”

“As am I, t’hy’la. Sleep now.”

***

_“-I don’t care what Starfleet-“_

_“-their neural patterns are spiking, doctor-“_

_“-get the damn colony on the line now-“_

***

Jim fidgeted in the waiting room. He was the only one there who seemed restless. The rest of his company included an Andorian mother with two children, the kids playing quietly on the carpet while she looked on, clearly exhausted, and an elderly human male, stooped and wrinkled but at ease with his age. None of them seemed concerned by a trip to the doctor’s office. Which was reasonable. Healer Solok was the best physician in the region if you were an off-worlder. But Jim’s headaches had come back full-force, and it wasn’t making it any easier to sit still. He half-expected the doctor to jump out of nowhere, jabbing him with hyposprays without warning.

The office door opened, Healer Solok guiding a male human teenager out with a hand on his shoulder. “You have no reason to be concerned, but speak to myself or your father if you feel continued discomfort.” There was a lilt to his accent that was distinctly un-Vulcan, although Jim couldn’t fully place it beyond ‘maybe Earth, probably the southern areas of America,’ but Jim was used to that. He’d asked the first time they’d met, and Solok had explained it as a side-effect of his travels off-planet for his studies. “I was never quite able to shake it,” he’d said with nearly a smile. “It does make me stick out like a sore thumb.” Before Jim had been able to laugh at the idiom, the hypo had gotten him.

“Jim Kirk.” Solok greeted him with the ta’al, which Jim returned. “Follow me, if you please.”

Jim did, leaving behind the others in the waiting room to follow the healer down the hall. “Busy day?”

“Not particularly. The non-human folks on Vulcan seem to have enough good sense not to need a doctor every day of the week.” Solok ushered him into one of the rooms. “You said this was at the bequest of your mate?”

“Yeah, Spock was worried.” Jim hopped up onto the table, kicking his legs against it. “I feel fine, though.”

“I was not born last night, Jim. You have an aversion to seeing me. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think there was a problem.”

“They’re just some headaches, is all.” Jim shrugged. “They’re…I mean, they’re not fun, but I’ve had worse.”

“Well, let’s take a look, and see if we can determine the cause.” Solok picked up a medical tricorder and ran it over Jim, watching intently as it whirred. Jim kept an eye on his free hand. There was no hypospray in it, but you never knew.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

Solok raised his eyebrow. “Why do you assume something is wrong?”

Jim gave him a look. “You’re a doctor. Doctors always think something’s wrong with you.”

“As your primary physician, I would have to disagree. However—” Solok turned, setting aside the tricorder and picking up another instrument. Jim was no doctor, but it looked like a precision tool, and he fought the urge to lean away as Solok ran it past his temple. “—there appears to be an unusual neural reaction. It is not something I have seen before in humans.”

“In Vulcans, then?”

Solok shook his head. “I am at a loss.”

“Could it be the radiation spike we had the other day? My headaches started around the same time.”

“What radiation spike?”

“Come on.” Jim laughed. “Huge spike of radiation from Alam’ak. It did a number on our equipment at work.”

“I’m a healer, not a scientist. I have little reason to track flares. But it’s possible there’s a connection. Please move to the biobed.”

Jim obeyed, laying down and letting Solok fiddle with the controls. “I don’t know if it’s related, but I’ve been having weird dreams.”

“Oh?”

“Just…flashes. Hard to remember. Just this sense of…voices talking over me.” Jim strained, trying to press the memory out. “There’s, like, this feeling of worry. Everyone’s frantic, and shouting. But I can’t-“

He was cut off by a loud beeping from the machine, and Solok swore in an impressive combination of Golic and English that Jim couldn’t appreciate because of the lance that stabbed through his brain. “ _Fuck_.”

“Relax.” Solok’s hand pressed him down, pinning him by his chest. A hand touched his face, but there was no sense of melding, nothing like when Spock touched him. “Relax, Jim.”

“What the fuck was that?”

“I do not know.”

Jim sat up, pushing the healer’s hand away. “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there? It’s not just dehydration or whatever. The headaches mean something.”

“I-“

The look of bewilderment on Solok’s face was so stark, so non-Vulcan, that Jim had to laugh. “God, this is crazy.”

“As a betsy bug,” Solok remarked dryly. Jim stopped laughing, and the Vulcan took a step towards him, helping Jim off the biobed. “Have you been working long hours recently?”

“Are you really going to blame this on stress?”

“You have been spending a great deal of time away from your bondmate and child, and you say you have not been sleeping well. It’s not unreasonable for that to manifest in headaches and tension.” Solok set his instruments aside, taking a seat and folding his hands together. “Your reaction is unusual, but it does not mean that something is amiss. It’s possible, as you said, that the radiation spike you registered has something to do with your biological response. I would recommend some time off, to spend with your family.”

Jim stared at him. “You’re kidding me.”

“I don’t know what else you expect me to do. All I can recommend is keeping an eye on the headaches, taking the time off, and scheduling a follow-up in a week or so, to see if it’s had any effect. In the meantime-“ Jim yelped as the hypospray came out of nowhere, lodging itself against his neck and depressing. “This is standard for human migraines. It may not help, but it is, I believe, worth a shot.”

Jim rubbed his neck and glared. “You’re like a fucking ninja with those things.”

“You do not let me use them if you see them coming.”

The Andorian mother looked relieved to turn her children over to Solok when the Vulcan led Jim to the waiting room again, reminding him that they would check in the following week to see if there was any improvement. Privately, and still smarting from the hypospray, Jim grumbled, but at Spock’s probing query, he tamped down on it again. No need to get his bondmate more worked up than he already was. They’d talk about it when he got home.

“Have a nice lunch?” Ressi asked when he got back. She was grinning, sitting at his station, her feet kicked up on the table. She was eating potato chips by the handful – probably replicated, and Jim grimaced at the thought, because he never liked replicated food and replicated potatoes of any kind always had a weird texture – and licking the salt from her fingers while T’Mura watched, scandalized. One of these days, Jim was going to have to separate the two of them.

“It was a doctor’s appointment,” Jim said, making a face and knocking Ressi’s feet down with a sweep of his hand. “They’re never fun.”

“Oh yeah? Healer tell you your head’s full of worms, or something?”

“Near enough,” Jim grimaced. “I’ve been having these headaches, and the good doctor thinks I need a _nap_.”

“Aw, want me to tuck you in?” Ressi teased. “I’m sure I can find a blanket somewhere around here.”

“If the healer prescribed rest, you should heed his advice,” T’Mura said. “It would be illogical to neglect your health.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing a lot about that lately.” Jim planted his hands on the table. “I can’t exactly leave, though. We’re right in the middle of-“

“Watching the computers spit out a _fascinating_ stream of data,” Ressi finished. Her feet were back up on the table, and she waved a chip-filled hand, the white salt stark against the blue skin. “Take a day or two off. Hell, we could _all_ take a day or two off, and it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Someone should be present to ensure the machines-“ T’Mura began to object.

Ressi cut her off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll watch them. Me and the kid.” McCallan’s head jerked up at the words, and she grinned at him. “What’s a trainee for if not to keep an eye on the busywork? You go spend some extra time with that new baby of yours. Give him a kiss from Auntie Ressi. And you—” she turned to Jim “—listen to the doctors and take a nap. Between the hours you pull and that crazy kid of yours, your brain’s liable to turn to mush, and then I’ll have to do all your work too.”

“Aw, you do love me.” Jim batted his eyelashes. “Here I was thinking you didn’t care.”

“Shut up,” Ressi said affectionately. “You owe me. I want visiting privileges with the Spocklet, _without_ him glaring at me the whole time I’m with her.” She called to T’Mura, who was already on her way out, “That goes for your spawn too!”

There was no Vulcan version of a vulgar hand gesture, at least not any that had survived since the reform, but Jim suspected T’Mura would have used one in that moment if there had been an option available. It would have been with hidden fondness, but it would have been given. He laughed. “I’ll talk to Spock and T’Kiha, see what I can do. I’m sure she’d love to see you again.”

“Alright, get out of here. You’re gonna make me cry.” She was already distracted, barking at McCallan to turn down the temperature with good-natured ire. Jim took his leave.

It was a surprise to find Spock home when Jim entered the house. His bondmate and mother-in-law were both seated in the living room, legs crossed atop the cushions, deep in conversation. They looked up when Jim entered, and he held up his hands. “Don’t stop on my account.”

He slid to the floor next to Spock, who reached out with two fingers. Jim answered it, and Spock returned his attention to Amanda as he continued, “I find it a troubling development. I have never had this difficulty with Jim before.”

“Never had what difficulty with me?”

Spock turned to him. “As per our conversation last night, I attempted to meld with T’Kiha this morning.”

“What? When was this?”

“While you were showering. I wanted to judge the level of her mental controls before allowing you to meld with her, given that my shields are more developed than yours.” Spock looked troubled. “I…did not wish to say anything. I knew you had enough reservation today, seeing Healer Solok.”

“Is something wrong?”

“It is…possible.”

“You’re telling me you felt nothing?” Amanda asked. She was frowning.

Spock shook his head. “It was as though she was resisting me. I was simply…unable to enter her mind.”

“Hang on,” Jim said. “She’s a kid. Can she even…?”

“There have been cases of children with abilities strong enough to block even adult telepathic intervention. Such abilities appear at higher averages than usual in our lineage.”

“Like Sybok.”

Neither Amanda nor Spock flinched, but Jim could feel it in the air. Sybok was a name rarely mentioned, and it had only been because of the strength of their bond, the complete totality of their mental link that Spock had been compelled to reveal his half-brother’s existence to Jim. Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement, and his voice had a quality that was somewhere between guilt and shame. “I…did not attempt to probe deeper. If T’Kiha is shielding from me, even inadvertently, there is likely a reason, and it could have done more harm than good to push her further.”

Jim took Spock’s hand. It was clear his bondmate needed the comfort, and Amanda was human. She wouldn’t consider it obscene. “Hey. It’s okay. Is that why you’re home early?”

“It is. I was…troubled. When I was unable to focus on my morning lecture, I decided to cancel my afternoon classes and return home to seek guidance.” He nodded towards his mother. “I still am at a loss for what to do.”

“You asked me, the other day, if I knew any doctors who could help T’Kiha.” Amanda pulled a PADD from her bag. “I made a list, but I’m starting to think maybe you need a specialist beyond the ones I know. I’d ask Sarek, but any mention of…of Sybok, and he has a tendency to shut down.”

Jim accepted the PADD, laying it in his lap. “We’ll look into it.” He squeezed Spock’s hand gently. “We’ll figure it out.”

Spock bowed his head. “I do not like thinking that T’Kiha may be beyond our reach. Perhaps if I melded with her more often…”

“Hey,” Jim nudged Spock to look at him. “This isn’t your fault.”

“As her Vulcan parent, it is acceptable that I take the blame for-“

“For nothing,” Jim said firmly. “It’s going to be fine.” He turned to Amanda. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, dear.”

“Where’s T’Kiha now?”

“Still at school,” Spock answered. His gaze had returned to the floor. “I…when we were unable to meld this morning, I decided it would be best not to make her aware of my concern. She does not know anything is wrong.”

“We don’t know that anything _is_ wrong,” Jim pointed out.

“Regardless, I suggest we do not mention it to her until we have more answers. She is too young to be troubled with it.”

“Okay,” Jim agreed. “We’ll wait until we know more. But she’s smart, Spock. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep it from her that we’re worried.”

Amanda unfolded herself from the floor. “I should be going. Your father will wonder why I’ve been away so long.”

Jim and Spock stood too, and Spock embraced his mother. “Thank you for coming.”

“For you? Always.” She kissed his cheek, then hugged Jim too. “I’ll try to talk to Sarek. T’Kiha means the world to him. For her, maybe he’ll open up.”

They saw her out. Jim slumped against the door as it closed. He let out a sigh.

“Something further is troubling you, t’hy’la.”

“You picked up on that, huh?” Jim rubbed his forehead. “Healer Solok…wasn’t so helpful.”

“Then your headaches…?”

“You were right, Spock. Something’s up. Solok said he’d never seen anything like this before, but then he turned around and wouldn’t _do anything_ about it. I thought Vulcans were supposed to jump all over shit like this, but he just prescribed me _down time_.”

“That is…unusual.”

“I’ll say. I mean, the guy’s more human than you sometimes, but he’s still a Vulcan, Southern accent or no.”

“He does have a tendency to speak…colorfully. Are you sure you understood?”

“Hard to misunderstand this.” Jim shook his head. “And it’s not just that. Those dreams I’ve been having?”

“They are continuing.” Spock nodded. “I am experiencing them too.”

“It’s like every time I close my eyes-“

“You hear voices,” Spock finished. “Expressing concern for your wellbeing.”

“Exactly! But every time I try and remember the specifics-“

“Your headaches worsen.” Spock’s jaw was tight. “I assumed at first that it was transference over the bond, but now I am…less sure. We would have to be melded for me to experience your sensations so powerfully.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am experiencing similar symptoms, headaches and unsettling dreams. And I believe I am experiencing them independently of yours.”

“Which means…?”

“I do not know.”

They stared at each other. Jim’s stomach knotted, and he swallowed hard. “What do we do, Spock?”

“I…I am at a loss, t’hy’la. Perhaps I should also speak to Healer Solok.”

Jim took a shaky breath, running his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. We’ll start there. And depending on what he has to say-“ He cut himself off and swore. “Shit. T’Kiha will be out soon. Someone needs to-“

“You should pick her up,” Spock said. “It is what she is accustomed to. We should attempt to disrupt her routine as little as possible.”

“Maybe we should have her stay with your parents,” Jim suggested. “Just in case there’s something really wrong.”

“Given the circumstances,” Spock said, “I would prefer that be a last resort. She was extremely distressed that you spent the majority of the last week at work. We should not threaten her regained security unless absolutely necessary.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Jim closed his eyes. “Okay.” He opened them again. “I’ll get T’Kiha. You…you look over that list your mom gave us. And…try to think of a reason you’re home that isn’t a lie and won’t freak her out.”

“She is a child, Jim. I am not sure she will care about the reason.”

“She’s a Vulcan kid, Spock. Hell, she’s _our_ kid. Asking questions is in her blood.”

Spock pressed his forehead to Jim’s, tangling their fingers together. _Go, ashaya. We will make sense of things together. But for now, our daughter needs you._

T’Kiha needed him. “I’m going.” He gave Spock a brief kiss. “I’ll be back soon.”

T’Kiha was waiting for him just inside the gate, and the way she lit up at the sight of him was almost enough to knock the unsettled feeling clear from Jim’s body. She launched herself at him, laughing when Jim caught her and swung her around. “Hey, kiddo!”

“You’re here!”

“’Course I’m here!” Jim said. “Had to pick my little girl up from school, didn’t I?” He set her down again. “So, what’d you learn today?”

T’Kiha needed no further prompting, barreling into a ramble about the days of First Contact with the planet Earth, and how Zefram Cochrane and Solkar of Vulcan made history with their meeting, and how she’d already known that because Sa’mekh’al had told her about it because it was part of _their_ house’s history, and stupid Navik hadn’t know _anything_. It was exactly the distraction Jim had needed.

“That’s what I’m gonna do,” T’Kiha announced when they were a little over halfway home. “When I’m all grown up, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Jim grinned, ruffling her hair. “Oh yeah? You want to be like Solkar and Sa’mekh’al? Be Vulcan’s ambassador?”

T’Kiha blinked at him, arched eyebrows raised. “No! I want to be a _starship captain_. Just like Zefram Cochrane and Solkar were when they met!”

Something tugged at Jim’s heart. Something that probably had more than a little to do with George Kirk. “If that’s what you want to do, kiddo, then that’s what you should do.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll even fly a ship with one of Daddy’s warp engines in it someday.”

She squealed at that thought, all but running up to their front door and bursting through it. “I’m gonna fly a starship!” She hurtled right into Spock’s arms, who raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking between Jim and his daughter. “Sa-mekh, I’m going to fly a starship! With Daddy’s special engines inside!”

“That is a high aspiration. It will take a great deal of work to achieve that goal.”

She stared blankly at him, and Jim laughed. He nudged T’Kiha. “Go on, baby. I’ll bet you have homework to do.” She scampered off, and Jim gave Spock a look. “Definitely my kid.”

“You wish to pilot a starship?”

“God no.” Jim shook his head. “Wanted to when I was her age, though. Wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps, be in Starfleet like him.” He dragged Spock in by the back of his neck, angling for a kiss. Against his lips, he murmured, “It’s a good thing I got smart, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps. Although I too considered Starfleet.”

“Yeah, I know. Baby Spock was just _itching_ for a chance to stick it to the VSA, weren’t you?”

“I must once again object to your phrasing.”

“But the sentiment’s the same,” Jim finished, grinning. He rested his forehead against Spock’s. _You give that list a look?_

_I did. I believe I have a suitable candidate. With your permission, I will contact them tomorrow._

_Why don’t we look at it tonight, first? Besides, your mom might get something else out of your dad._

_Very well._ Spock continued speaking as if the mental conversation had not occurred. “At any rate, I obviously did not join Starfleet.”

“And I didn’t become a starship captain.” Jim gave Spock another kiss. “This is where I belong.”

“Where your heart is, so is mine.”

“Convenient.”

“Indeed. I will also note that T’Kiha has made no unusual reaction to my presence.” Jim detected the note of smugness beneath Spock’s voice.

“The day is still young,” Jim told his bondmate. He gave Spock’s ass a friendly slap. “Now, I’m going to go take a shower. I swear, it gets hotter here every day.”

“It is the heart of Vulcan summer.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jim shook his head, still smiling. “Sure I can’t convince you to take a sabbatical for a semester? I bet T’Kiha would love to spend a couple months on Andoria with Ressi.”

The look Spock gave Jim was scathing. “Go shower. I will see if our daughter needs assistance with her homework.”

“Ressi wants to see her, you know. She misses her niece.”

“She is not a biological relative of any-“

“Spock.”

He paused, took in Jim’s expression, and then relented. “Very well. You may…arrange a meeting.”

“Thank you, love.” Jim blew him a kiss, and sauntered off to take his shower. He didn’t miss the way Spock was ogling his ass, and he smiled to himself. Still got it.

In the evening, Spock and Jim sat down together with their heads bent over a PADD, drafting a communication. Healer Solok’s schedule really was open, because he had been able to book an appointment for Spock for the following day with no trouble, although he had expressed mild surprise and concern that Jim’s bondmate shared his symptoms to such a degree, and they had received a communication from Amanda with Sarek’s reluctant recommendation. Which meant that all that was left was to do was contact Professor Toyari Azei, a Betazoid with an impressive list of credentials and a specialization for telepathic concerns in children. They drafted it internally, with T’Kiha sitting on the floor across the room, reading a battered copy of _Alice in Wonderland_.

It took a little convincing to tuck T’Kiha into bed – bribery with another chapter, read aloud by Jim, did the trick – and when Jim had kissed her forehead and gone to turn out the light, T’Kiha asked, “Daddy? Was Sa-mekh home today because he thought I would get in trouble again?”

Jim sighed and shook his head. “No, baby. Sa-mekh just needed a day off, that’s all. He gets tired sometimes.”

“Because of me?”

 _Because of me_ , Jim thought guiltily, and ignored the answering retort from Spock, shutting down that line of thought. “Not because of you, baby. Even super tough Vulcans like Sa-mekh still need a day off sometimes. Now go to bed.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He was pretty sure she’d picked up the book as soon as he closed the door. He could see the glow of a light click on. But he let it be.

Spock was waiting for him when Jim made it into the bedroom, standing at attention, his arms folded behind his back in the same pose Jim saw him use often with the VSA board. Professional. Dignified. And with a hungry look in his eyes.

A smile curled at the edges of Jim’s lips. “You wait up for me, babe?”

“I am at your command. Captain.”

A jolt went through Jim, straight to his cock. Sneaky Vulcans and their mind powers. “What gave it away?”

“There is little you do not consider a fetish, Jim. However, I am very attuned to your arousal, and you showed clear signs when discussing your childhood fantasy.”

“You know, it sounds weird when you phrase it like that.”

“My apologies.” Spock lowered his head, looking up at Jim through half-lidded eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Perhaps you should punish me for insubordination, Captain.”

It sounded so goddamn right when Spock said it. “Perhaps I should, Commander.”

“Not Ensign?”

“God, no.” Jim stepped forward, lifted Spock’s chin with a finger. “That would be unprofessional, taking advantage of someone under my command.”

“And the commander is not?”

“The commander,” Jim murmured, close enough to tease, relishing the way Spock fought the need to lean in and claim his lips, “is high enough to think for himself.”

“But still under you.”

“He will be.” Jim stepped back suddenly, his aching cock protesting loudly. “On your knees, Commander.”

“Yes, Captain.” Spock _dropped_ , so hard Jim almost winced in sympathy. Almost, because it was so goddamn hot he was throbbing at the image. He crooked a finger, and Spock came crawling.

Jim stopped him with a foot, suddenly wishing he was wearing boots. Spock picked up on the thought and made a sound, low in his throat, that had Jim resolving to get a pair as soon as possible. “Take me out, Commander.”

Spock lifted his hands to Jim’s pants, lowering them so that his cock sprang forward, nearly slapping him in the face in its desperation to be free. Precum was already drooling from the tip, and Jim reached down, gripping the base and directing it so that it pointed towards Spock’s lips. “Do you know why you’re doing this, Commander?”

“Insubordination, sir.”

God, Jim was going to come before Spock even got his mouth on him. “That’s right. On my ship, we show the captain the proper respect. And I think you need a lesson in it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on, then. Show me how a captain deserves to be greeted.”

Spock leaned forward, opening his mouth to tongue the head of Jim’s cock, then sealing his lips around it in a filthy kiss. Jim groaned. “ _Fuck_.” He fisted Spock’s hair. “Take it deeper, Commander. Get it nice and wet.”

Spock obliged, bobbing his head down, until his lips pressed against Jim’s hand at the base. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking, and Jim’s knees nearly buckled. Jim’s grip tightened, on his cock and in Spock’s hair. “Can you take it all?”

_Yes, sir._

_Shit._ Jim panted, releasing his cock, and Spock surged forward, the head hitting the back of his throat and sliding down as Spock suppressed his gag reflex, the entire length swallowed whole, wrapped in wet, tight heat. Jim cried out as Spock’s throat flexed and rippled around him, the Vulcan’s mouth sloppy with spit. He adjusted his hands, grabbing Spock’s face, and his bondmate went slack, allowing Jim to thrust into his mouth with abandon.

“Fucking perfect,” Jim groaned, spurred on by the sight of Spock’s puffy, abused lips, the way his bondmate stared up at him with huge eyes, pupils blown black with arousal. “Your mouth is fucking perfect, _shit._ ” He panted, trying to hold on. “How far would you go, huh? How far would you go for your captain?”

 _Anywhere_.

“You would, wouldn’t you? My loyal first officer.” Jim threw his head back, hips pumping, eyes closed. “You’d do anything for your ship.”

_For you. My captain._

Jim keened, and then he was coming, spilling down Spock’s throat in thick streams, his cock jerking as Spock suckled him through the aftershocks. He withdrew, still panting, and stared down at his bondmate. “Holy shit.”

“I, too, found it highly arousing.”

“Yeah?” Jim pressed a foot forward, finding the still-hard evidence, precum leaking through the crotch of Spock’s pants. “It’d be even better in uniform, wouldn’t it? Would you like that, babe? Me calling you ‘Commander,’ making you hump against my boot until you come all over it?” Spock’s hips twitched, and Jim ground his foot down, encouraging him to rock against it. “What if I made you lick it off, would you like that? Made you polish your captain’s boots with your tongue, make them shiny with your spit? I’d keep the uniform on when I fucked you, so hard you’d feel the insignia against your back, knowing it was your captain treating you like his own personal bitch, and you enjoying every second of it.”

Spock groaned and came, thoroughly soaking through his pants, and Jim grinned and pulled his foot back. “I think you like the idea.”

“It is not without merit.” Spock stood, peeling his soiled garments off and discarding them. “The thought…”

“Feels right, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Spock inclined his head. “Now, I suggest we retire for the night, Jim. We have things to attend to tomorrow.”

Jim took the hint, settling in next to his bondmate. “My head feels better when you’re inside it.”

The playful atmosphere sobered. “I had noticed the same.”

“Let’s agree, then. No blocking each other out. At least, not until we’ve got this…whatever it is fixed, alright?”

“Agreed. Although, I will point out, you are always with me.”

“Never and always touching and touched,” Jim quoted. He pulled Spock’s arm over him. “And it does have a nice ring to it.”

“That it does.”

***

_“-week is too long, goddamn it-“_

_“-must control yourself, Doctor-“_

_“-you know Spock’s mind better than-“_

_“-will do all in my power-“_

_“-just get here, damn it-“_

_“-is it so serious-“_

_“-they may not have much time left-“_

***

Jim blinked, staring at the PADD in his hands without seeing it. His head was pounding, making any attempts at focusing impossible. Jim would have found it funny that it wasn’t until after Solok prescribed him rest that the symptoms had worsened, but he wasn’t in much condition to find anything funny right now. He squinted at the communication, which confirmed that the specialist they had contacted would be in the area anyway, and so had agreed to come see their daughter. That, at least, was good news. And Spock would be speaking to the healer right about now, so hopefully Jim would get another communication soon. If he was very lucky, it might even have some answers.

His PADD chimed, but to his disappointment it wasn’t Spock. Instead, the notification was from his parents. Jim frowned and answered it. “Mom? Dad? What’s up?”

Winona clucked her tongue, even as George Kirk gave a laugh. She elbowed her husband. “It’s not funny! He hasn’t spoken to us in months, and this is the greeting we get?”

Jim rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, Mom. There’s just been a lot going on.”

“So we’ve heard.” George leaned back in his chair. They were crowded together at what Jim recognized as the desk in their shared quarters. He could see a shelf of books behind them, and his father’s medals, proudly on display. “Sarek told us that you’ve been having problems with T’Kiha?”

“She’s _fine_ , Dad.” Jim’s chest tightened, and it took effort to keep eye contact with the PADD. “Why are you talking to him, anyway? You could have called me.”

“Sarek picks up,” Winona said. She gave Jim a pointed look. “You were a problem child too, Jim. Maybe T’Kiha could benefit from seeing her other grandparents a little more often. We did well enough with you.”

Jim resisted the urge to groan. Between his mom and Sarek, it was a wonder he hadn’t lost his daughter to meddling grandparents ages ago. “Where are you? I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.”

“We aren’t,” George put in. “There’s a Starfleet event back at Earth, and they want the flagship there, for appearances sake, so they had us swing back around. We’ll be in comms range right up until our shoreleave.”

Which meant plenty of contact, whenever Winona wanted. Perfect. Across their bond, Jim felt a flash of something from Spock, but it was gone almost instantly, before he could identify it. He sent a query, but Spock was either ignoring it or too preoccupied to answer. Either way, Jim’s heart sank. Odds were, it wasn’t going to be good news.

His parents were, obviously, oblivious. Winona was talking. “-nice of Sarek and Amanda to put us up, considering you always complain about your house being too crowded when we visit.”

“Mom, I never said that!” Jim interjected. “I just said theirs was bigger, that’s all.”

“Honey, it’s fine.” George put a hand on his wife’s shoulder and addressed his son meaningfully. “Jim and Spock don’t live on a starship. They’re used to a bit more privacy than we are.”

Jim relaxed a little, smiling at his dad. “Well, maybe just a little more,” he joked. “Privacy seems to be overrated where kids are concerned.”

George laughed, and even Winona managed to smile. “Oh, I bet she’s getting so big, isn’t she?” she sighed. “They grow up so fast…two weeks can’t come soon enough!”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.” Sarek was definitely T’Kiha’s favorite grandparent, but with her going into her starship captain phase, Jim could see George Kirk quickly advancing to the lead, at least until she decided on a new career path.

His headache abated, just for a moment, as Spock’s thoughts drifted across the bond. _I’m coming home_.

 _What? Why?_ It was too early. Spock had planned on going back to the VSA after his appointment. He had been concerned about missing too many of his classes lately. Jim mentally upgraded the status to Red Alert, then frowned at the metaphor.

His mother’s voice broke into his thoughts again. “Jim?”

He shook himself. “What?”

“Are you alright?” George asked. “You looked…”

He forced a smile. “It’s nothing. I have to go.”

“What? But we-“

Jim cut his mother off. “I’m sorry, Mom, but Spock’s going to be home soon and I need to talk to him about something.”

“We could wait, say hello-“

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad. Talk soon.” Jim hung up and slumped back. He discarded the PADD with a clatter against the glass table, and stared out the window, as if that could will Spock to appear. But it was still several long, painful minutes before his bondmate stepped through the door.

Jim was on him the instant. “What did Solok say?”

“Healer Solok…” Spock took a breath. “Jim, could we sit? I find myself…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Jim could feel it too; it wasn’t just his own headache he was feeling. The pain was worse now, worse than before, because Spock’s shields were failing. His own headaches were bleeding back into Jim’s.

“I’ve got you, babe.” Jim took Spock’s arm, guiding him into the living room. He tried to joke, “You never did like seeing Solok. The doctor’s too emotional for you, isn’t he?”

“Solok’s behavior is more appropriate for a human than a Vulcan,” Spock agreed. He winced, lowering himself into a sit.

Jim sat across from him. “So? What’s the verdict?”

“I…” Spock shook his head and swallowed. “I should meditate. My shields-“

“You can meditate in a minute. What did the Solok say?”

“He does not know.” Spock’s face was pinched with pain. He closed his eyes. “His scans showed abnormal activity, but nothing he could understand, and when he attempted to meld…Jim, he was unable to touch my mind. I could not feel him.”

“ _What?_ ”

“It may be my mind, not T’Kiha’s, that is blocked.”

“But I can feel you!”

“You are my t’hy’la,” Spock said. He found Jim’s wrist, and squeezed it. Jim covered Spock’s hand with his own. “Our bond…it goes deeper than any other. It is embedded in our katras, in the center of our beings.”

“That’s why you can feel my mind, but no one else?”

“I have no other explanation, and neither does the good doctor.”

Hearing Spock use the human term was unsettling, but Jim didn’t give it much thought. He surged forward, wrapping a hand around the back of Spock’s neck, pressing their foreheads together. “Meld with me.”

“Jim-“

“Do it!”

“It is unnecessary. We are already-“

“Spock, _please_.” Jim took a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars dancing behind them. “Please. For me.”

There was a heartbeat. And then fingers asserted themselves on his face, and Spock murmured, “My mind to your mind. Your thoughts to my thoughts.”

_Jim’s eyes opened. There was beeping, slow and steady, punctuated by frantic bursts. Something under him was humming, like the ground under his feet was vibrating. No, not his feet. He was on his back, staring up at a pristine white ceiling. There was a hand in his, clenched tight, and he couldn’t turn to look, couldn’t move at all, but instinctively he knew it was Spock’s._

_There was suddenly a voice from beyond his view, picking up and shouting something indistinct, but the lights were getting brighter, too bright, and Jim’s eyes closed again._

They fell apart, eyes flying open as they stared at each other. The headache wasn’t gone, but it had receded, so that Jim’s mind was not throbbing in agony but hampered only with minor – if still painful – taps. It had been replaced by a wave of exhaustion, dragged over Jim so rapidly he nearly collapsed to the floor, held down by the gravity. Spock’s eyes were wide.

“What…what was that?” Jim managed.

“I do not know.”

With a great deal of effort, Jim braced himself on his hands, then pushed off, swaying forward into Spock’s space. “Do it again.”

“I cannot.”

Jim blinked. “But-“

Spock shook his head, and Jim took a good look at his face. It appeared almost to have aged years in the last few minutes, sallow with fatigue. His voice shook. “I…today has taken much out of me, t’hy’la. I…require rest.”

“Right.” Jim held out his hands, helping Spock to his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“I will meditate. Reflecting on the image…may prove enlightening.”

“It felt familiar.”

“Perhaps it is a memory.” Spock rubbed his forehead. “The headache has abated, at any rate. Help me to my meditation room?”

“Of course.”

He lit the incense for Spock and then left him there. Jim had never taken to Vulcan meditation – too fidgety for it – but he could understand Spock’s need for it. The meld had helped the headache, but either it had wiped him out completely or, in removing the issue, made him realize just how tired he was. He made it to their room, curling up on the bed on top of the covers. He didn’t even bother to remove his clothes, to change into something cooler or cleaner, before he was drifting off.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back again sometime later, up from a space that was not quite dreaming, yet neither fully awake. He blinked his eyes open. Spock looked better; still haggard, but composed. “Are you alright?”

Jim stretched, his mouth falling open in a yawn. “Better. Mostly. You?”

“My mental shields are…relatively in order.” Which was Spock for ‘not as good as I’d like them to be, but manageable.’ “I have reflected on the image we saw, of the white room.”

“Yeah?”

“It appears to be a hospital or medical facility of some kind. I believe it is a manifestation of our current concern.”

Jim cocked his head and frowned, and Spock elaborated. “We have been…uneasy about our current health, given the migraines we have been experiencing. When we meld, it forms a landscape that we both recognize.”

It felt more familiar than Jim really understood. “You think we made a hospital ward because we’re worried about being sick?”

“I have no better explanation.”

It felt off to Jim, but he wasn’t a mind expert, especially when it came to telepathy. “Okay,” he said. “That’s…good.” Sensing Spock’s confusion, he grinned. “This all means T’Kiha’s probably alright. The problem isn’t with her. She’s fine.”

Spock relaxed. “That is a…bright side…to the situation.”

Jim’s smile broadened at the idiom. Then: “Shit. Someone needs-“

Spock placed a hand on his arm. “Perhaps, if she is available, Ivressih can acquire T’Kiha for the afternoon. You said she had asked to see her again”

“Now I know something’s wrong,” Jim teased, “if you’re suggesting leaving T’Kiha alone with Ressi for more than a few seconds.”

The faintest smile played around Spock’s lips. “I believe, given the circumstances, I am willing to allow it.”

“I’ll send her a comm.” He patted Spock’s arm and pushed himself to a stand. “Hey, that doctor who’s going to take a look at T’Kiha? Maybe she can take a look at you too.”

“I am not a child, Jim.”

“No,” he grinned, “but you never know.” And he went to comm his lab mate.

Ressi was, understandably, thrilled at the prospect. Jim could hear her crowing over the line. “You know I’m going to bring her back full of sweets, right?”

Jim laughed. “Just no chocolate, and I think we’ll manage. She’s still too young for that.”

Ressi rolled her eyes, antennae flicking. “Despite what Spock might think, I’m not _totally_ irresponsible.” She sobered. “So what gives?”

Jim attempted to look innocent. “What do you mean?”

“You’re asking me to pick up your daughter from school with barely any notice and no complaint from Spock. Something’s up.” She paused, antennae twitching again. “Does it have anything to do with that doctor’s appointment? You’re not dying, are you?”

“Shit, Ressi, nothing like that.” Jim scoffed. “They’re _headaches_. Fucking awful headaches that might be messing with Spock’s Vulcan…mind shit, or something, but it’s probably nothing.”

Spock entered the room. He had changed, from the robes he had arrived in to more appropriate house-wear. He peered over Jim’s shoulder at the PADD. “Ivressih. I trust you will take good care of my daughter this afternoon?”

“Don’t worry,” she grinned. “I won’t let the Spocklet wander off any cliffs.”

“Why you insist on referring to her as-“

Sensing the rising tide, Jim interjected. “Alright, you two. Spock, you know she’s winding you up.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow. “On the contrary. That would require-“

“An emotional reaction?” Ressi twitched an antenna and folded her arms, looking smug. “Of course, you’re too Vulcan for that.”

“Ressi, play nice, or we’re taking T’Kiha back,” Jim said, but there was no heat behind the words.

“You sure you’re not dying?” Ressi’s gaze flicked between them. “If you are-“

“We are not dying,” Spock said. He gave Jim a look that conveyed exasperation with only his eyebrows, although plenty more bled across the bond. “This is an inconvenience. Possibly an illness, but a temporary one. I expect to see T’Kiha returned, after dinner, having eaten a proper meal and prepared to go to bed.”

“No promises,” Ressi grinned, “but I’ll see what I can do.” She hung up.

“I sent the school a comm already,” Jim told Spock. “They’ll know she’s not being abducted when Ressi comes to get her.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am not convinced that is not what’s happening.”

Jim nudged him. “This was your idea.”

“Mmm. It might be wise to find a suitable distraction, before I change my mind.”

Jim winced. “Sorry, babe. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but for once-“

“I was not referring to sex.”

“Oh.” Jim blushed. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Then…?”

“I am going to contact a colleague at the VSA, so that I might access the medical databases. Barring that, I will go to the library and see if there is anything to be gained from there.”

“You think you can figure this out yourself? Even though Solok-“

“Healer Solok does not know everything.” Spock’s mouth set in a thin line. “And I am quite capable of running a scientific investigation.”

“Now that I believe. Any way I can help?”

Spock considered. “When is Professor Azei arriving?”

“End of the week. Why?”

“You may be correct in believing she can help us. She specializes in telepathy, but her research is more nuanced and diverse than most.” Spock paused. “You posited a theory, that your headaches may have been linked to radiation?”

“You’re thinking we start there?”

Spock nodded. “You begin with the professor’s research. I will search Vulcan’s database.”

“Alright.” Jim reached out and squeezed Spock’s shoulder. “Let’s do this.”

***

“I swear,” Jim said, dropping his PADD with a sigh, “I think I’ve read these all before.”

Spock glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “I was not aware you studied telepathic neurology.”

“I haven’t.” Jim sat back, drumming his fingers on his leg. “At least, not that I remember. It’s just…familiar, that’s all.” He scooped up the PADD again, skimming back to the top of the article. “Professor Azei does have a theory about radiation messing with telepathy, but it’s not exactly a solid thesis.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently on Betazed, radiation spikes from the sun can sometimes mess with the empathic centers of the brain for some of the kids she’s studied. She thinks the link is something to do with underdeveloped psi-skills.” Jim waved the PADD between them. “That could work here. Without you, I’m basically psi-null, so it kind of applies. But it’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Still, your research appears more fruitful than mine.” Spock set his own PADD down. “Navanna was only able to give me limited access to the database, and little of it has any bearing on telepathy at all. And the symptoms…”

“Headaches could mean absolutely anything,” Jim agreed. He ran his fingers back through his hair. There was an itch on the inside of his skull, completely separate from the headache, but he had no idea how to scratch it. He sighed. “It’s getting late. Ressi will be bringing T’Kiha home soon.”

“Assuming she does not choose to abscond with our daughter.”

“Nah, she’ll be here.” Jim smirked. “Ressi’s only interested in being the fun aunt. It’s not fun anymore if she has to be responsible for bedtimes and baths.”

“If you are sure.” Spock didn’t sound convinced.

“Let’s call it a night,” Jim said. He picked up his PADD and Spock’s, stacking them and setting them on the table. “I don’t know about you, but my eyes hurt, and it doesn’t seem like we’re going to be making any headway today.”

“After today, we may not make further headway at all. I have to return to my lectures as of tomorrow, and your own studies-“

“Can wait another couple days. I’m supposed to be on leave, remember?” Jim kicked his legs out, stretching them. “I’m surprised Solok didn’t recommend the same for you.”

“He did. However, this is a crucial point in the semester, and my students-“

“Are a bunch of logical Vulcans. They’d get it if you needed to take a few days off for your health.”

“Jim.” He was surprised by the look in Spock’s eye. There was pain in them, but not the physical sort. “I do not want my students to see this failing in me.”

The subtext was clear. Jim leaned into Spock. “Things are different now, aren’t they? It’s not like it was when you first joined. They respect you.”

“Perhaps. I would prefer not to give them a reason to lose that respect.”

Jim turned his head, kissing Spock’s temple. “They’re idiots if they don’t. You’re the smartest person I know.”

“An exaggeration, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

The door chimed, breaking them apart. Reluctantly, Jim hauled himself up to answer it, Spock following in his wake. Ressi was waiting on the doorstep, T’Kiha in tow. The Andorian held up her hands when she saw Spock. “She’s been fed, and we worked off the dessert before I brought her here.”

T’Kiha flung herself forward, attaching herself to Spock’s leg. “I saw the labs where Daddy works!”

“You should bring her in more often.” Ressi reached out and ruffled T’Kiha’s hair. “If she doesn’t end up flying spaceships, maybe she’ll build one.”

“I can do both,” T’Kiha said, sticking her chin in the air. Then she yawned.

Spock set a hand on her shoulder. “Come. It is bedtime.” He inclined his head to Ressi. “Ivressih. Your assistance this evening was appreciated.”

“Anything to spend time with the Spocklet.” She grinned.

Spock opened his mouth and then closed it. He gave Jim one last glance, and then shepherded T’Kiha into the house. Jim lingered on the doorstep.

When T’Kiha was out of earshot, Ressi asked, “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” Jim promised.

“You gonna be back to work tomorrow? Or are you taking another couple days off?”

“I’ll be back the day after next,” Jim promised. “You know me. I get too restless cooped up at home.”

“Even with that bondmate of yours?” Ressi leered.

Jim snorted. “ _Goodnight,_ Ressi.”

“’Night, Jim. Thanks again for letting me see her. I missed the kid.”

“Yeah, she’s great.” Jim smiled over his shoulder, looking fondly into the house where his bondmate and their daughter had disappeared. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Ressi mimed gagging. “Alright, don’t get sweet on me.”

Jim laughed and made shooing motions. “Then get out of my yard!”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Ressi walked backwards. “See you around.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You better. It’s no fun without you and T’Mura around.”

“You just miss having someone to bother!”

Even in the darkness, Ressi’s blue skin stood out, pale against the star-filled sky. Jim saw her teeth flash, and knew she was grinning. He smiled too, and closed the door behind him.

Spock was waiting for him in the hallway outside T’Kiha’s bedroom. “She is insisting she speak to you before she goes to bed.”

“Alright.” Jim slid past his bondmate to find T’Kiha, in her pajamas and sitting up in bed, her hands folded. “What’s this? No running around screaming?” He called over his shoulder, “Are we sure Auntie Ressi brought home the right little girl?”

T’Kiha giggled, and over their bond Spock sent the laughter he was suppressing as he stepped into the doorway. Jim took a seat on T’Kiha’s bed, picking up her hands and turning them over, then cupping her face and inspecting it. “Nope, looks like the right kiddo to me.” He placed a smacking kiss on the top of her head. “What’s up, baby? Sa-mekh said you wanted me?”

“Wanted to say goodnight.”

“Aw, kiddo, of course I was going to say goodnight. I missed you today. But you had fun with Auntie Ressi?”

She nodded, her eyes bright. “We had le-sum-krim, but Aunt Ressi told me not to tell Sa-mekh.”

Jim exchanged glances with Spock, who raised his eyebrows. “Well,” Jim said in a stage-whisper. “Sa-makh doesn’t have to know.”

Pointedly, Spock looked away. T’Kiha pressed her lips together to hide a smile. Jim ruffled her hair. “You ready for bed now?”

She nodded, sliding down under the covers. Jim tucked them around her and kissed her forehead, then turned out the light. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

He closed the door quietly behind him, and then looked to Spock. Neither of them spoke, aloud or in their minds, but Jim could tell they were thinking the same thing. Whatever was going on with them, they were going to fix it. For their daughter’s sake, if nothing else. Maybe the problem was nothing, or maybe Ressi’s half-glib concerns had a point, but it didn’t matter. Jim would move planets to stay with his daughter, and there was nothing he wouldn’t give up for her. Besides Spock, she was the center of his universe, and he could no more leave her than a planet could break the gravity of a sun.

***

_“-I don’t know what it means, Christine. In this state-“_

_“-how long until we reach-“_

_“-just keep monitoring them, and pray that-“_

_“-the ambassador?”_

_“He’s on his way.”_

***

“Look what the makra dragged in.” Ressi grinned, kicking away from the lab bench to stand up, arms folded. “Thought you might give actual work another try?”

“You were the one who decided to hold down the fort while I took a couple days off,” Jim pointed out. The temperature was lower than normal, which he appreciated. “T’Mura still out, then?”

“She deserves the time off,” Ressi said. “Everything’s calm. We’re handling it. There’s no reason she can’t spend time with her kid.” That it was said with no malice, only affection, was a sign not only of Ressi’s good mood, but her soft spot for the Vulcan. No matter how much she might have teased, how much they might have driven each other crazy (or as crazy as a Vulcan could get), Jim knew they didn’t mean it. Moments like this proved that.

He gave a fake pout. “I see how it is. Maternity leave, no problem, but sick leave-“

“You’re fine,” Ressi waved him off, but then she hesitated. “You are good, right?”

“Stop asking if I’m dying.” Jim poked her on the way past to the computer terminal. “You’re going to give me a complex.”

Spock had returned to work the previous day, and had come home tired, spending most of the evening meditating and then crawling right into bed. His sleep had been restless, and he had only settled at all when Jim had slid in next to him. Even then, neither of them had slept very well. Jim’s own day hadn’t gone much better; he felt like he was reading the same information over and over again, and not learning anything new. Eventually, he’d given it up. Apparently, brain science was one area that he couldn’t wrap his head around. The irony was almost amusing.

McCallan poked his head around the corner, presumably drawn by the voices, and his face lit up when he saw Jim. “You’re back!”

“I’m back.” Jim gave him a friendly slap on the back, then slung his arm around the kid’s shoulders. “Ressi wasn’t too mean to you, was she?”

“Don’t answer that!” she called across the room, and McCallan’s eyes went wide, looking back and forth between the two senior scientists.

Jim took pity on him. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just grumpy that she doesn’t have a valid reason to take time off.”

“I don’t need time off.” Ressi put her feet back up on the lab bench. “I need a team who does their jobs.” But she seemed more amused than anything else, and Jim suspected that it wasn’t data she was flicking through to analyze. There was plenty of waiting around in their job, and in between drawing up reports Jim had found more than one Vulcan romance novel left lying around. Somehow, he didn’t think they belonged to T’Mura.

Still, just because it wasn’t a busy time didn’t mean there wasn’t work to be done. Jim bent over the computer terminal and called up the reports from the days he’d missed. If he wasn’t making any headway on his personal project, the least he could do was keep up at his actual job.

T’Kiha was subdued when he picked her up, poking at the schoolyard ground with her foot. She was mostly silent as they walked home, and it wasn’t until they were almost there when she asked, eyes still cast towards her feet, “Am I a bad Vulcan?”

“What? No!” Jim took her shoulder, pulling T’Kiha to a stop so she faced him. Her gaze didn’t leave the ground. “Hey. What brought this on?”

“We were meditating, but sitting felt bad. Sa-mekh lets me sit different sometimes, if it helps, but when I moved Instructor T’Sora said I was distracting the class, and then Navik said I was a bad Vulcan ‘cause I couldn’t even meditate right. He said it’s just sitting. But it’s not! And I don’t like sitting like that.” T’Kiha’s lower lip quivered. “I’m a bad Vulcan, and they aren’t gonna let me go to the Academy, or fly a ship, or, or…”

She sucked in a sharp breath, and Jim looked around. There were other people on the sidewalk, looking at them as they passed, and Jim wrapped a protective arm around T’Kiha’s shoulder, willing her to keep her eyes on the ground so she didn’t see them as he shepherded her towards home. “First of all,” he said, “you’re not a bad Vulcan. You’re just different, that’s all.”

“I don’t want to be different! I want to be _good_.”

This was really Spock’s territory, but Spock wasn’t there right now. Jim’s headache was worsening, but he pushed through. “Sweetheart, you’re three-quarters human. It was important to Sa-mekh that we bring you up here, on Vulcan, but you’re not just from here. There’s a whole, important part of you that’s from out there,” he gestured towards the sky, and T’Kiha cautiously followed his hand with her eyes. “They can’t understand that, because they’re not from the stars, like we are.”

“The stars?”

“Daddy was born in the stars. Did I ever tell you that?”

T’Kiha shook her head.

“I was. On a starship.”

“Really?”

“Really. We belong out there, baby, and nothing’s going to stop us from getting there, okay? No matter what Navik or your teachers or stupid Elder Toval says.”

That made her giggle, and Jim smiled. T’Kiha looked up at him, eyes wide and blue as the sky. “You want to go to the stars too, Daddy?”

Jim faltered. He had said that, hadn’t he? And it had felt right to say it, to claim that his place was out there, in the black. He swallowed. “Maybe just for a visit, kiddo. When you’re flying around up there.”

T’Kiha went quiet for a moment, turning that over. Then she said, “I still don’t meditate right. Instructor T’Sora is right, the others don’t like it.”

“That’s why Sa-mekh is helping you. And we’ve got someone coming soon who might be able to help you even more.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.” He pinched her arm. “Just you wait. Soon you’ll be meditating _circles_ around Navik, and then he’ll see who the real Vulcan is, huh?”

T’Kiha giggled again, turning as they reached their house and skipping up to the front door. Jim rubbed his forehead for more reasons than one. His hand came away damp with sweat, but the ache stayed behind. Still. Crisis averted. For now.

He’d meant to tell Spock about the incident when his bondmate got home. But Spock had walked in, looking just as bad as the day before, and had murmured something about going to meditate. Jim had probed their bond, concerned, but Spock had pushed him away. The only saving grace was that he hadn’t closed the link. It hurt more, for both of them, when he did that, and Jim had enough of a headache as it was. He couldn’t imagine how Spock was feeling. His bondmate did come down for dinner, but he hardly said a word and didn’t eat a bite before excusing himself for bed.

T’Kiha stared after her father. “Is Sa-mekh sick?”

Jim pursed his lips together and tried for a smile. “He’ll be fine, baby. He’s just tired.”

“He’s been tired a lot.”

“Yeah, he has.” Jim didn’t know how to explain it without worrying her. He reached over and ruffled her hair, his hand sliding down to cup the nape of her neck. She was so little, even still. She practically fit in the palm of his hand.

“Is someone coming to help him too?” she asked, looking up at him.

Jim swallowed, and didn’t meet her eyes. “I think so, kiddo. I hope.”

***

_“-hold on-“_

***

“You’re sure you don’t want to call out today?” Jim asked, straightening the front of Spock’s instructor robes. The tunic sash about his waist was clumsily tied, and Jim reknotted it for his bondmate. It wasn’t like Spock to be anything less than fastidious, but Jim couldn’t blame him. Spock had dark circles under his eyes, and a trickle of low-level pain flowed constantly back and forth between their link. Jim suspected Spock was shouldering the brunt of it, but there was nothing he could do. Once his bondmate made up his mind about something, that was it.

“Some of my students are having trouble grasping our current concepts. We cannot move on until they do, and I will not have the rest of the class held back.”

“There’s gotta be someone else who can do it.”

“Professor Azei will not be arriving until this afternoon, after my classes have ended. I will return with sufficient time.”

Jim gave Spock’s robes another little tug. “Don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but you look like you could use about a week of sleep. Or at least meditation.”

“I am sufficiently rested.” Spock had that faint lift to his chin, the mild version of T’Kiha’s defiant look. Any further debate would just go in circles, so Jim relented.

“Everything feels _off_ ,” he said instead. “The headaches, the dreams…it all feels _wrong_ , somehow.”

“It is not our natural state to be suffering an illness of this type.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Spock gave him a questioning look, and Jim rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t explain it. I’m just…restless, is all. Like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing.”

Spock rested his hands lightly on Jim’s arms. “You are supposed to be taking our daughter to school,” he murmured, “and then returning to your own work.” He kissed Jim, first with his fingers, then his lips. “I will see you this afternoon, t’hy’la.”

“Have a good day at work.”

On the walk to the Learning Center, T’Kiha was buzzing with questions. What a Betazoid looked like. What she’d do. Would she poke T’Kiha with hyposprays like the healer? Would she talk funny like him? But Jim didn’t have the mind to answer. He knew he was speaking, but the words were automatic, and it wasn’t until he caught T’Kiha frowning up at him that he forced himself to focus. “What is it, baby?”

“Do we have a new healer?”

“What? No.”

“Oh.” Her face pinched, her eyebrows drawing together. “I thought maybe Healer Solok was going away.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I asked if Miss Professor was a real doctor, and you said yes, but she wasn’t a doctor like Bones. That’s not a very Vulcan name, is it?”

Jim stared at her. “No,” he said. “It’s not.” _Sawbones_ , he thought, and remembered telling Spock that only a few weeks ago. It was more insistent now, beating at the back of his mind. Why did it sound so familiar? The slang was ancient.

His parents commed him again while he was at work, the alert notification unsettling him so badly he almost couldn’t answer. He stared blankly at the screen, his eyes focused in on the _Enterprise_ cabin behind them, cataloguing every detail of the room. When he spoke, it was halfway into one of Winona’s sentences. “Did you do something different with your quarters?”

“Jim!” Winona scolded. “It’s rude to interrupt your mother.”

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “But did you?”

“No.” Winona looked around. “Same as they’ve always been.”

“Are you alright, son?” George’s face was grim. “You look a little spooked.”

Jim closed his eyes. Part of him didn’t want to open them again. He had a nagging feeling, like acid in his gut, that if he did, everything would disappear. He forced himself to look. “It’s nothing, dad. Busy day, that’s all. I’ll see you next week.” He hung up.

Across the room, Ressi said, “You know, they’re right. You look like hell.”

“If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it.”

It came out more biting than he meant, and Ressi raised her hands in surrender. “Yes, _sir_.”

“And don’t call me that.”

McCallan dropped a hypospanner and swore, clutching nervously at his curls as he scrambled to pick it up. Jim stared at his now-blank tablet, shaken, and pretended, ridiculously, that he hadn’t expected the curses to be in Russian.

T’Kiha was already changed out of her school robes and into a more informal – but still presentable – tunic when Spock got home. She’d bounced to the door when it had opened, but her face had fallen when she’d seen it was just her father. She’d given Spock a brief hug, which he’d knelt for, and then run off. It had taken a minute for Spock to rise to his feet again.

“She’s excited about Professor Azei,” Jim murmured, watching his bondmate from the living room entryway. “She’s never met a Betazoid before.”

“Vulan and Betazed have little contact for a reason.” Spock managed to make it across to Jim, holding out his fingers for a kiss.

Jim met it. He didn’t need to touch to know Spock’s hands were shaking. He could see it. Still, he tried for light-hearted. “Does that reason have anything to do with Betazoids being empaths and Vulcans trying to pretend they don’t experience emotions?”

Spock made no reaction; only the faintest glimmer of amusement winked across the bond, and none of it showed on his face. “I will attempt to mediate until the professor arrives. Please call for me when she is here.” He brushed past Jim, heading in the direction of his meditation room. Jim watched him go, still leaning on the doorframe. He felt the same weight.

Professor Azei arrived on their doorstep a little over an hour later, greeting Jim with an impressively crisp ta’al and a broad smile. “You would be James, then?”

“That’s me.” Jim stepped back to invite her in, but before she could cross the threshold she was all but tackled, T’Kiha skidding to a stop with a thump as she collided with the young professor’s legs. Her eyes went wide as she stared up at the Betazoid, whose smile softened.

“And you must be T’Kiha,” she said, crouching down to be at the girl’s eye level. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.” She gave T’Kiha the salute, and T’Kiha returned it, then ducked behind Jim’s leg, peering out.

“Daddy says you’re a doctor.”

“That’s right.” Professor Azei stood up again, stepping into the house. “I’m a very special kind of doctor. Instead of working only with the body, my training works with the mind.”

“We have healers who do mind stuff.”

“Vulcan has many talented healers,” Professor Azei inclined her head in agreement. “But your parents asked me here because they need someone with extra special training.” She looked at Jim, then back at T’Kiha, and bent, putting her hands on her knees. “Do you think I could talk to your father alone for a minute?”

T’Kiha’s chin began to lift in defiance, but Jim headed her off. “Baby, why don’t you go get Sa-mekh? He’s meditating, and he asked to be brought down when the professor got here. It’s very important.”

Now with a mission, T’Kiha forgot her protests, and dashed off towards Spock’s meditation room while Jim directed the professor into the living room. “Thank you so much for coming, Professor.”

“Please, call me Toyari.”

He nodded. “I take it you worked with Sarek before, about Sybok?”

She shook her head. “Not directly. My mentor was an old friend of Sarek’s, and it was his guidance Sarek sought. However, he retired a few years ago, and he referred Sarek to me. Sarek trusts his opinions, so…” She spread her arms, folding into a kneel on the cushions. “Here I am.” She tilted her head. “I sense you’re apprehensive about this visit, but I assure you, your daughter will be in good hands.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Jim offered her a smile, but it felt weak, and he knew she could see it. “That’s…not the issue.” He swallowed, glancing towards the door to make sure T’Kiha wasn’t about to come barreling through it, and then said, “Things are…slightly different, from when we last spoke.”

“How so?”

Jim explained about the melds, most of which had already been in the communications, and how they now had reason to believe it was Spock, not T’Kiha who was having issues. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added hastily, “she’s still struggling. Meditation is hard for her, too hard for a Vulcan child her age, and she’s having problems in school because of it. But the…mental block thing. That might be Spock, not her. We were hoping…we were hoping you might be able to help. With both.”

“I’ll certainly try.”

“There might be…other side effects, too.”

“Such as?”

He explained about the headaches, the exhaustion that was worsening the longer they went on, how Spock spent much of the day meditating or sleeping, and how Jim wasn’t much better. He described the dreams, what little he could remember of them, and when she shook her head, ponytail swishing, it was all he could do not to squeeze his eyes shut at the familiarity of the motion, a familiarity that made his head throb and that he could not name. “It’s getting worse,” he said, and almost laughed. “God, I feel like I’m losing my mind!”

“Relax,” Toyari told him, with the same patient smile she’d given T’Kiha. “With any luck, I’ll be able to find some answers for you.” She straightened up, raising the ta’al again as Spock appeared in the doorway, T’Kiha by his side. “Live long and prosper, S’chn T’gai Spock,” she greeted him, hitting every syllable with a perfection that made Jim wince.

He returned the gesture. “Peace and long life. We appreciate you coming here to assist us.” He took a seat beside Jim, and T’Kiha glanced between her parents before folding herself into a sit as well. “Has Jim updated you on the situation?” Spock asked.

Toyari nodded. “I’m aware of the troubles you’ve been facing. I’d like to help, in any way possible.” She turned towards T’Kiha and smiled, beckoning her with a finger. “Come a little closer. I don’t bite.” Her dark eyes sparkled, and Jim exchanged a look with Spock. Toyari looked at them. “I’d like a few minutes alone with T’Kiha, if that’s alright.”

“Sure thing.” Jim pushed himself to his feet, ruffling T’Kiha’s hair. “Be good for Miss Toyari.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” Toyari said, and although she didn’t physically shoo them from the room, Jim felt the kind dismissal.

It was a testament to how shitty he felt that he didn’t take the opportunity to pace along the hall until Spock insisted he sit down. Instead, he stepped out into the garden, dipping his finger idly through the trickles of water that flowed through the elaborate, if mostly decorative, aqueduct system surrounding the plant beds. Neither Jim nor his bondmate had anywhere near the gardening abilities of Spock’s mother – and Jim had more than once joked about the Vulcan’s lack of a “green thumb” – but the garden was passable, useful enough to grow a few native vegetables and pretty enough to sport a variety of small but colorful blooms. Tiles lined the walkways, forming geometric patterns under their feet, leading to the (mostly) dry fountain at the center of it all. Jim sat on the edge, and Spock folded down beside him without a word.

“She reminds me of someone,” Jim murmured, scratching patterns in the dirt with his finger. “I can’t…” He winced, and then rubbed at his temple.

Spock’s pinkie nudged against his unoccupied hand, their shoulders brushing. His voice was heavy when he responded. “I too found her familiar, but I am certain I have never seen her before.”

“Are we going nuts?”

It was clearly dire if Spock didn’t comment on the illogical idiom. He hung his head. “I do not know, t’hy’la.”

Jim covered Spock’s hand fully, squeezing gently. “Hey,” he tried to smile. “At least we’re doing it together, right?”

Spock didn’t laugh, but Jim hadn’t expected him too. Silence lapsed again, and what part of Jim’s mind wasn’t consumed with beating back the agony rooted there wondered what exactly Toyari and T’Kiha were up to.

Spock was otherwise occupied. His eyes were fixed on a nearby bush, delicate blue and gold flowers intertwined on twiggy vines, hale and hardy despite the climate. “It is good that your parents intend to stay with mine. I do not…it will be better if they are not in the house.”

Jim leaned into Spock. “They’ll have to be in the house, babe. You know my parents. They’ll want to see what we’re up to, where T’Kiha sleeps. And they’re going to need a break from Sarek.”

Amusement sparked, a little stronger now, and Spock’s lips quirked. “We shall see them in a week.”

Jim smiled too. “Seven-point-two-three days.”

The reversal of roles amplified the amusement, roiling between them. For a moment, just a moment, the headache died down, and Jim’s world felt rooted again.

Then Spock murmured, “We must be prepared for the situation not to have been resolved by then,” and Jim’s good mood fell again.

They both straightened up when Toyari stepped outside. T’Kiha wasn’t with her, and either the question showed on their faces – or more likely, Jim’s face – or the professor’s empathic abilities were more nuanced than Jim had anticipated, because she answered the unspoken thought with ease, “T’Kiha’s inside. I have her trying an unguided meditation exercise that’s been very effective on children with her problems.”

“So you can help her?”

Toyari nodded, her skirts folding around her thighs as she took a seat on a bench across from them. “I was able to establish contact with T’Kiha’s mind without difficulty. Her thoughts are disorganized, and she has trouble focusing, but that’s not unusual for a child her age, particularly since Jim told me he was the same way.”

Jim nodded in confirmation. “My parents kept me busy, so it wasn’t usually an issue.”

“That is…one strategy to take. I prefer a slightly different approach. With your permission, I’d like to work with T’Kiha over the next few days, to teach her some strategies to help keep her mind in order, keep her focused.” She addressed Spock directly, “I’ll teach them to you as well, so you can assist her, or have a family member if you’re unable.”

Jim felt Spock stiffen beside him, and sent him a wave of reassurance over the bond. “So you think she’ll be okay?”

Toyari smiled. “T’Kiha will be fine. There’s nothing actually wrong with her. She’s simply less Vulcan in this respect. That’s not a failing. It just means that she needs a little extra guidance in order to keep up with her peers. Otherwise, she’s quite advanced. She’s a very bright child.”

“We have attempted to allow her access to both sides of her heritage,” Spock said stiffly.

“And you’d done a wonderful job. You have a lovely, intelligent, and charming little girl.”

“She’s pretty great,” Jim agreed. As much as he wanted Spock to relax a little, he couldn’t deny the tension in his own body. “And…the other thing?”

Toyari’s expression sobered. She looked to Spock. “Right now, I can sense your emotions without much difficulty.” Spock’s face didn’t change, but Jim had to grin at the slightly ruffled shift in his emotions. Toyari clearly got it too, because she laughed. “That isn’t something to be ashamed of. Like all Vulcans, you feel very deeply. Betazoids can sense that, even if the feelings are controlled.

_Point one for Jim Kirk._

_I was not aware we were keeping score._

Jim nudged Spock’s shoulder and addressed the professor. “So, if you can feel what he’s feeling, what does that mean?”

“Well, there are a few possibilities. It’s possible that the block that you were facing was simply mental, and you’ve overcome it enough that it is no longer an issue.”

Jim pulled a face, and felt an agreement from Spock. “Unlikely,” his bondmate said. “Particularly if it relates to the symptoms Jim and I continue to experience.”

Toyari nodded. “It’s also possible that the blockage only goes one way; you’re able to bleed telepathic and empathic senses out, but unable to access them coming in.”

“That’s a thing?” Jim asked.

“Often it occurs as a result of trauma,” Toyari explained.

Spock tensed. “I have not-“

She held up her hands, “I’m not suggesting that’s the case here. At any rate, I think the first thing to do is to attempt a meld, see what we’re dealing with.”

Spock glanced towards Jim, who could feel the reluctance – and even fear – crossing their bond. He squeezed Spock’s wrist. “I think that’s a good idea. Can’t really figure out how to solve it until we identify the problem, right?”

“That is…logical,” Spock allowed. With difficulty, he staggered to his feet, and Toyari rose swiftly to meet him, steadying him with a hand. It was a testament to Jim’s own exhaustion that he didn’t lurch to his feet after his bondmate, making sure he didn’t fall. As it was, he watched as Spock lifted a shaking hand to Toyari’s face, placing his fingers on the meld points and reciting the ritual words.

He sucked in a breath. “I…cannot-“

Toyari grabbed his wrist, keeping it pressed to her face. “Relax. It’s alright. Try again.”

Spock’s face screwed up in concentration for a moment, and then he wrenched away. “No! I cannot…” His shields were slamming up in panic, and Jim toppled backwards as a lancing pain shot through him, blacking out his vision. There was a beeping, somewhere in the far distance, getting louder and aggressive as his head throbbed, and Jim let out a cry of pain before the link opened again and Spock was surging back into his mind like a wave crashing to shore, rushing in to fill all the gaps and suddenly Jim could breathe again. He gasped in, eyes opening, head still pounding. He was sitting, a faint trickle of water wetting the back of his tunic as he hauled himself out of the fountain, Spock’s apologetic hands helping him up. Toyari was staring at them, mouth agape, and Jim managed a weak chuckle.

“Bet you’ve never seen that before,” he sputtered, and tried not to wheeze.

Neither Vulcan nor Betazoid laughed. The professor shook her head. “I’ve never…I’ve never encountered _anything_ like this.”

“Then you cannot help us?”

She looked to Spock. “I don’t know…I could run some tests, but studies like this take time, planning.”

“What about your research?” Jim rushed out. “You had a theory about radiation-“

She stared at him as if he’s sprouted a second head. “ _Radiation?_ I’ve never seen radiation do anything close to this!”

“But-“

“My specialization is with children whose abilities are underdeveloped! If Vulcan healers can’t do anything about this for you, I don’t think I’d be able to help at all!” She looked genuinely regretful. “I really am sorry. I wish I had better news.” She took a few steps back. “I’m going to check on T’Kiha. I’m sorry. I wish-“ She stopped herself, ponytail swinging again as she shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She disappeared back into the house, leaving Jim and Spock alone in the garden.

Jim slumped back with such force he nearly fell over again. He didn’t care. “Shit.”

“Jim-“

“That was our last hope, and now it’s gone! What the hell are we supposed to do from here, Spock? The healers won’t listen-“

“We could attempt to speak to a healer besides Solok.”

“-and our research is getting us nowhere-“

“Perhaps there are areas of the database we have not been able to-“

“-and the goddam specialist just looked at us like we were terminal cases!” Jim wanted to leap to his feet, to pace and shout at the sky. Instead, his head throbbed and he dropped it into his hands. “This is all _wrong_ , Spock, don’t you get it? And there’s not a damn thing we can do about it!”

“Jim.” His bondmate’s voice was quiet, but there was a strength in it that made Jim look up. Spock’s face was haggard, but his eyes were burning. “I will not give up.”

“T’Kiha,” Jim murmured. Spock nodded. Jim collapsed against Spock’s shoulder. He didn’t care that the Vulcan suns were burning down on them, or that combined with Spock’s body heat it was enough to give him heatstroke. He needed the connection. “She needs us.”

“And I need you, t’hy’la. Please do not make me continue alone.”

Jim rubbed his cheek against Spock’s shoulder, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. “Okay. Okay. We’ll…think of something.”

“We will.”

_And don’t shut me out again._

_I apologize. I was…not entirely in control._

“It must be scary, only being able to see my mind.”

Spock stroked two fingers over the back of Jim’s hand. “If there were only one mind I could touch, ashayam, it would be yours.”

They both straightened reflexively as T’Kiha peered into the garden, then capered over to them, climbing into Jim’s lap without preamble. He stroked her hair, then looked up as Toyari followed. Her mouth was pressed together in a thin line. Jim forced himself to smile. “Exercises go okay?”

“T’Kiha learns quickly. An adult should be taught the exercises as well, someone who can guide her after I leave, but I anticipate she’ll have a much easier time of things from here on out.” Toyari glanced between Jim and Spock, and the Vulcan bowed his head.

“I will give you my father’s contact information,” he said. “He is the most logical choice to work with T’Kiha.”

Toyari nodded in agreement, but T’Kiha frowned. “Why can’t you or Daddy do it?”

“Daddy’s psi-null,” Jim told her, brushing her curls back out of her eyes. He tried to keep up the smile, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “And Sa-mekh…”

He trailed off, looking helplessly to Spock, who finished for him, “I believe your sa’mekh’al would like to have a greater hand in your instruction. This would provide him with that opportunity.”

T’Kiha nodded at the logic of it. She hopped off Jim’s lap, then paused and flashed Toyari a respectful ta’al. “Peace and long life, Miss Toyari.”

Toyari returned the gesture. “Live long and prosper.”

T’Kiha scampered off, and Toyari turned back to them. Spock stood, and gestured for her to follow him inside, but Jim remained seated even after the garden was empty. He stared up at the sky until his eyeballs ached, as the suns went down and it slowly turned black, stars twinkling to life. The pain in his chest soothed, even if his head still throbbed. There was something lodged inside of him, something nameless and terrifying, that insisted that he belonged up there. That if he were there, everything would be alright.

“Jim?”

He jerked upright. Spock was standing in the doorway, watching him. He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. I’ll be in in a minute.”

“I have made dinner,” Spock informed him, and Jim could hear the apology in his voice. “I did not wish to disturb you.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” Jim got to his feet, almost laughing as Spock raised a skeptical eyebrow. Jim paused when he came level with his bondmate, and cupped Spock’s cheek. The Vulcan leaned into the gesture, covering Jim’s hand with his own. “Tell me everything’s going to be alright,” Jim murmured.

“I cannot predict-“

“Spock.”

His bondmate lowered his head, until their foreheads were pressed together. “Everything will be alright, t’hy’la. We will find a way.”

***

_“-almost had him-“_

_“-don’t understand-“_

_“-hopefully the Ambassador-“_

_“-tomorrow-“_

***

Jim threw his PADD down so hard it cracked against the lab bench and shot onto the floor, causing all three of his lab mates to jerk their heads towards him in surprise. McCallan immediately returned to staring at his work, so close Jim thought he might be going cross-eyed. T’Mura lifted an eyebrow and then looked away. But Ressi’s brow was furrowed, and she shoved aside her own PADD, unfolding from her chair and crossing the room in a few long strides, hopping up onto the lab bench in front of him. “Okay, that’s it. You’re out.”

“ _What?_ ” Jim stared at her in disbelief.

“I get it, okay? You’re stressed. You’ve got a kid to handle and parents coming over and on top of all that you’re probably sick with some kind of Vulcan mind STD and that’s a lot, and I wanted to let you keep working because it was clear you wanted something to take your mind off it, but you look half dead and you’re not getting anything done and now you’re starting to distract the rest of us. Go home, Jim.”

Jim’s mouth hung open. Ressi looked serious, deadly serious. It was a look he didn’t think he’d ever seen on her face before. He kicked his chair back a little, but didn’t stand. “You can’t tell me to leave. I’m in charge here.”

“If you’re pulling the ‘lab assistant’ card, then I _really_ know you need to go home.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not going to say it again, Jim.”

“If you are ill, it is logical-“

“Shut up!” Jim spat. T’Mura blinked. McCallan looked ready to burst into tears, his eyes darting between the three older scientists and back to his workstation, like he was afraid to stay fixed on any one thing too long. Jim didn’t care. He lunged to his feet, kicking the chair aside with a bang. “You don’t get it!” He slammed his hands down on the desk, on either side of Ressi’s thighs, and snarled when she didn’t even blink, “We were supposed to be fixing it, but it’s getting worse and I don’t…I don’t…” He blinked, then staggered.

Ressi caught him by the wrists, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Forget McCallan, Jim could feel tears leaking into his own eyes. She pulled her to him, and Jim buried his face in her stomach, shuddering. “It’s not getting better,” he whispered.

The past week had been hell. Spock had spoken to Sarek and Amanda, but they hadn’t been able to do anything to help. Sarek was a diplomat, not a healer, and Amanda was human. She might have been a scientist, but her field of study had nothing to do with the mind or the body. The most they had been able to do was suggest healers who might listen, but none had returned their communications, hadn’t even when Spock had collapsed in the lecture hall, surrounded by his students, and all Solok had been able to do was get him conscious again and take him off work for the foreseeable future. Toyari had left, but that didn’t matter either, not when she hadn’t been able to help them, and maybe that was an uncharitable thought because T’Kiha’s performance in classes was already improving, but Jim was in an uncharitable mood because everything hurt and hiding it just wasn’t an option anymore.

T’Kiha knew. She knew when Spock had come home to stay. She’d asked, her voice tiny and eyes huge, if Sa-mekh was sick, and Jim hadn’t had the heart to lie to her anymore. “He’s sick, baby,” he’d told her. “He and Daddy both.” She’d asked if there was anything she could do, anything the healers could do, but Jim hadn’t been able to answer. Spock alternated between meditating and sleeping, both fitful and plagued with flashes of imagery, bleeding across their bond but gone before Jim could make heads or tails of it. All he knew was, it wasn’t helping. Spock was getting worse, and so was he, and there was nothing they could do about it.

Ressi stroked his hair. “Shh. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Jim whimpered. He could barely get the words out between gasps. He couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ burst into sobs. “T’Kiha-“

“T’Kiha will be okay,” Ressi promised. “She has your parents, and Spock’s parents, and me, and-“

“But she needs me!”

“You’re no good to her until you get yourself better,” Ressi insisted. “You’re working yourself too hard, Jim. Stop fighting it!”

“I can’t!” Jim wrenched himself away. He didn’t get very far, staggering back and supporting himself against another lab bench. He shook his head to clear it. It didn’t help. “I can’t stop _thinking._ There’s too much in my head, and it _hurts_ and I can’t…” His breath hitched. “What if we never get better?”

Ressi slid forward, off the bench, and took his hands, squeezing hard. “Don’t you dare think like that, Jim Kirk. You know why? Because you’ve got a little girl at home, and she’s going to wonder what happened to her daddy. She’s going to wonder why you gave up.”

Jim gaped at her. T’Mura appeared over Ressi’s shoulder, touching the Andorian lightly to move her back. Ressi stepped away, and T’Mura drew Jim upright again. “Go home,” she said, and although her voice was aloof, her eyes were anything but. “Return to your bondmate. Do not allow your child to grow up without her parents.”

“I…”

“We can take care of things here,” McCallan piped up, and then shrank again nervously when all eyes turned to him. There was some kind of accent bleeding through, maybe Russian, maybe Scottish, but Jim felt like his ears were underwater, and when he scrubbed at them spots flashed behind his eyes. The kid swallowed, and then straightened up. “Go, Jim. We’ve got this.”

“See?” Ressi said. “It’s not just me. Now get out of here before we hypo your ass and _drag_ you out.” She mimed something, swishing like a fencing sword, and Jim couldn’t even question where that image had come from because nothing was making any sense.

Well. One thing made sense. Jim looked between them. His vision was swimming, no matter how much he blinked, but his lips quirked up. “I love you guys, you know that?” He grabbed Ressi’s arm, and T’Mura’s, and squeezed as tight as he could. “I love you all so much. What would I do without my crew?”

He took a step back, and then his eyes widened because he was on his front doorstep, and when had that happened? He grabbed the handle, but it swung open, and T’Kiha threw herself through it, attaching herself to his leg. “Daddy, you’re home!”

“I…yeah…” Jim looked around, hauling the both of them over the threshold. “Who…got you from school?”

“I walked home!” T’Kiha detached herself enough to stare up at him, beaming. “I’m a big girl, and I went all by myself! That way, you and Sa-mekh don’t have to worry so much about me, and you can focus on getting better!”

“Baby…” Jim wavered, and braced himself against the wall. “Sweetheart, maybe let go of Daddy’s leg? He’s having a little trouble…”

She jerked back, eyes going wide, and Jim immediately backpedaled, “No, baby, it’s okay!” He crouched, and then gave up when he stumbled and folded onto his knees on the floor, hugging her tight to his chest. “Daddy loves you so much. He’s just tired.”

She hugged him back. “Don’t leave me, please.”

“Never, baby. I never could.”

“Jim.”

They both looked up to see Spock, clad in what amounted to Vulcan sweatpants, his face a sick, sallow green. He wrapped the robe a little more tightly around himself, and took a few shaky steps forward. “You are home early.”

“They kicked me out,” Jim managed. “Thought…thought the lab was a little too much for me.” He reached across the bond, and Spock opened for him, welcoming him in, but although the ache soothed for a minute, it almost instantly shot back again, redoubling in strength. Jim couldn’t be sure how much came from him and how much from Spock, but mentally he clung to his t’hy’la, unwilling to let go.

“Your parents,” Spock said. “They arrived this afternoon. We will be expected-“ He reached out for Jim’s hand, taking it to help him up, and then the world was spinning and Jim fell into his bondmate’s chest, staring over his shoulder at the sehlat doorknocker, then at the silk of Spock’s formal attire, etched with gorgeous embroidered Vulcan calligraphy, and at his own dress clothes.

“Spock-“

The door opened, and T’Kiha shrieked with delight, launching herself at her grandparents. George Kirk caught her, laughing, and nausea roiled in Jim’s throat as he met his father’s bright blue eyes.

“Hey, son,” George started, but Jim was already bolting at warp speed, his feet unsteady, shoving past his father before he could say another word, past his mother with her mouth agape, past Amanda and Sarek and just running as fast as he could.

A hand caught his, and Jim yelped, nearly tumbling forward over the balcony railing to the garden below, and the sky was purple and when had it started getting dark? Jim looked back to his bondmate’s face and stared. Spock had his hand tight, hauling him back onto the patio that Jim hadn’t even meant to find, deep in Spock’s wing of the house, vines twisting over the stone and dripping down like creeping, withered hands.

“Jim-“

“I’m losing my fucking mind, Spock. Don’t try to tell me I’m not.” Jim sucked in a lungful of air, but it didn’t help. His whole body was burning. “Nothing makes any sense! It’s like I’m looking through warped glass, like everything is just _off_ somehow.” He shook his head forcefully, his grip on Spock so tight that even a Vulcan, with superior strength, had to be feeling the crush of bones between his fingers. “This is the only goddamn thing that makes any sense.”

Spock gripped him back, just as tight. “Jim, you must remain calm-“

“Don’t tell me to be calm!” Jim was shouting, but it still sounded a long way off. He was shocked Spock wasn’t bleeding where his fingernails were digging in. “Do you know what I do, Spock? Because I don’t!”

“You are a scientist,” Spock stumbled a little over the word. “A warp special-“

“It doesn’t sound right to you either, does it?” Jim flung himself away from Spock, throwing his arms up in the air and spinning around. “I’ve been pouring my heart and soul into a warp engine, and _I don’t even know what we’re doing to it_. I don’t know! It’s my job, and I don’t know!” He laughed. It was a delirious sound. He stumbled back a little and caught the railing again, bracing himself against it. “What do you teach, Spock? I don’t know. You’re my bondmate, I should know, and when you’re in the classroom I think I do but the moment you come home…” He shook his head, leaning back, still laughing. “This is crazy. This is crazy!”

“Jim-“

“Our daughter has blue eyes!” A lead weight slammed into Jim’s chest, sucking all the air out of his lungs. He lurched up, staggering forward. “Our daughter has blue eyes, Spock, like mine.”

Something akin to relief crossed Spock’s face. “Yes, Jim. T’Kiha-“

“ _How?_ ”

“She is your-“

“She can’t be! Don’t you get it, Spock?” Jim jabbed a finger back at the house. All the lights were out, a small part of his brain catalogued. They were out, and the stars were out, and everything was spinning like a gyroscope in zero-g. “Your parents could barely conceive _you,_ and they had all sorts of medical help and _we’re both men, Spock._ That technology doesn’t exist yet! She looks just like _you_ , and she looks just like _me_ , and that’s not physically possible!”

“I…”

Spock was stuttering, but Jim grabbed the advantage and plowed on, “How did we get her, Spock? I don’t remember! I remember…I remember you had pon farr, and then a few months later she was there, and I don’t know how we got her! My own daughter!” Jim’s voice was rising, not just in volume but in pitch. “She has blue eyes, but she can’t have blue eyes. Fuck, _I_ shouldn’t even have blue eyes-“

“Jim, what are you-“

“The only reason I even have them is because my father is dead!”

They stared at each other, Jim’s chest heaving, Spock frozen. Jim took a step back. Softly, he repeated, “My father is dead.”

“Your father is alive.”

“He can’t be.” Jim shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “He’s dead, he died when I was born-“

“You were born-“

“In space, I was born in space, and the ship exploded and my mom…” Jim’s eyes shot open. “And my mom had me get optic surgery so my eyes would be blue like his.”

“Your father is alive, Jim, he is downstairs with-“

“Your mother.” Jim took in a shuddering breath. “Your mom, Spock.” He spun around, staring out to the horizon, across the houses and into the desert where the mountains met the sky. “Vulcan. I’ve never been to Vulcan.” He whirled back to Spock, “I shouldn’t know what pon farr even is, or what the Learning Center looks like, or your mom. I shouldn’t know your mom, Spock, this is _wrong.”_

Spock caught Jim by both wrists and held him there. “You will cease!”

For a moment, they just breathed, the world still spinning, the two of them a focal point inside of it. Spock shook his head. “How can this not be real? Our daughter, our _daughter_ , Jim, she is here, no matter how she arrived. My mother, your father, this planet, we are all here. How can that be wrong?”

Jim stared into Spock’s eyes. There was bleeding over the bond, terror and horror and something deeper, something twisting. “You know.”

Spock shook his head. “I cannot…”

“You feel it too, Spock, you know this is wrong.”

“No!” Spock shoved Jim, pushing him back into the gnarls of vines and stone. He paced, like a caught animal. “It is delirium, nothing more. We are…imagining it.”

“Spock-“

“You are my t’hy’la! That cannot be wrong!” It was Spock’s turn to point towards the house. “In there is our daughter, a product of our love! She cannot be wrong!” Jim watched, stunned, as Spock seized the corner of a bench and flung it, so that the delicately carved wood shattered against stone. “I will not lose…” He shuddered and stilled, his shoulders hunching, his fists clenching, his eyes going shut. “I will not lose everything I care about. I will not.”

_My mind to your mind._

“What?”

Spock’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Jim, shaking his head. “It is not-“

_My thoughts to your thoughts._

“What’s happening?” Jim reached instinctively for Spock, who took his hands. The pounding in his head was growing louder, drowning out everything but that voice, echoing inside his skull.

_My mind to your mind._

Spock let out a cry, collapsing to the ground, and Jim went with him, still clinging together, his vision blurring, going red around the edges and then black.

_My thoughts to your thoughts. Jim. Can you hear me?_

_Spock?_

_It is not me, t’hy’la._

_No. And yet it is._

For a moment, everything was suspended. Jim was floating in blackness. He could see nothing, but he could also see stars, and he could feel a warm desert breeze wafting over his face, and all of this felt good, felt right.

_I have transferred your pain. It will not last long. You must listen to me._

_Who are you?_ It sounded like Spock, and yet not. The voice sounded old, and straining under a heavy weight. The weight of their pain.

_I am from reality. It is time you returned to it._

_I don’t understand._

_Break the link, Spock._

And now it was Jim’s Spock that he felt, disbelief flooding their bond. _Jim is my t’hy’la. Why would I-_

_You are hurting him as long as you hold him. It is killing you both._

_No!_ Jim protested. Mentally he clung to the bond, to the feeling of Spock in his mind. _We’re bondmates. You can’t-_

 _It is a new bond. It will heal._ There was pain in the voice, a pain so old that Jim couldn’t fathom it. _I would not ask, but your lives are at stake. Please. We know no other way._

To Jim’s horror, he felt Spock shift. There was a tentative feeling, almost a surrender. _Explain._

_We have little time. You must trust me._

_Explain your logic!_

_Your minds have been infected, and it is your bond that is keeping it fed! Please. Spock, you will heal. We have ways of treating you. But Jim’s mind…it will not stand under the strain. Already it is collapsing. Can you not feel it?_

The blackness was rumbling, under Jim’s feet and around him. It shouldn’t have been able to, but already Jim felt it cracking, slipping away.

 _I feel it_ , his Spock said. _What must I do?_

 _Sever the link. Let Jim’s mind separate from yours._ The voice was growing fainter, crumbling and fading with the background. _Please. It may be the only-_

Jim inhaled sharply, slammed back into his body, and they were back on the terrace, Spock on the ground beside him, cradled in his arms. He gripped the Vulcan. “That was a hallucination, something…something because we’re sick-“

“Jim…”

Jim shook Spock. “You were right! Us, this, can’t be wrong.” His eyes shot up to the house, and on the other side of the sliding glass door, T’Kiha was staring at him, her little fists pounding against the glass, mouth open in a silent wail. George Kirk stood behind her, and Amanda Greyson, their hands pressed to the surface, their eyes pleading.

“Don’t look at them, Jim.”

“Spock, that’s our daughter.” Jim struggled to his feet, lurching towards the door. He collided with it hard, his shoulder aching where it made contact, and he scrabbled for the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Look at the sky, Jim.”

He shook his head, covering T’Kiha’s hands with his own, the glass between them lightyears wide. “I’m here, baby, Daddy’s here. I’m not leaving, I promise.”

Her mouth formed words, shapes he could barely read. _Daddy, please._

“Jim, look at the sky.”

He tilted his head up and met nothing. No stars, just empty blackness. He turned, staring out, but there was no Vulcan beyond the balcony. The vines were crumbling in on themselves, turning to dust and swallowing themselves up in the dark, and Spock was standing there. Staring.

“Spock.”

“It isn’t real.” There was no Vulcan control in his voice. It was pure anguish. “These memories…they are not real. They are wrong.”

Jim turned back to T’Kiha. His hand was still fitted over hers on the door, but she wasn’t wailing anymore. Her eyes were big, and blue, and terrified. _Please._

“I can’t,” he said. He couldn’t breathe. “Spock, I can’t-“

“Don’t look.”

“I can’t, I need-“

And there was a hand on his face, tearing him from the glass, and Spock’s eyes were dark, but they were just as scared as T’Kiha’s, and he said again, “Don’t look, Jim, please.”

“Spock, no, don’t do this-“

“My mind to your mind.”

“Spock!”

“My thoughts to your thoughts.”

“ _Please_.”

“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.”

And Jim couldn’t fight Spock, couldn’t keep Spock out of his mind if he wanted to, and Spock was sliding in, was pressing deep to the core of him, to the bond wrapped around Jim’s heart like a shining golden thread and he began to cut.

 _Spock please, you can’t-_ Jim attempted to gather up the threads, scrambling for them by the handful, but his mind was untrained and Spock was swift, and they scattered through his fingers. _Spock, I love-_

_Goodbye, t’hy’la. I cherish thee, and all that never was, and never will be._

And the last link snapped, and Jim was falling…falling…

He screamed, jolting upright, and everything hurt, his head was throbbing, and the monitors were screaming and there was a rough Georgian accent saying “goddamn it, Jim, lie down” and rough hands shoving him down onto his back and out of the corner of his eye he saw a tall figure in a Vulcan robe leaning over the bed next to his and the last thing that Jim felt was a hand falling out of his, dangling limply, still as death.

***

Jim opened his eyes. The lids were heavy, and he was barely able to drag them past half-mast, staring up at the white ceiling through his lashes. He splayed his fingers; the biobed was soft beneath them, warm with his body heat. His ears still felt underwater, and he shook his head lightly, trying to clear it.

“Easy, there.” A hand gripped his shoulder, and Jim covered it instinctually, allowing it to ease him and the bed into a more upright position, so that the doctor’s face swam into view. “Looks like Sleeping Beauty finally woke up. How are you feeling?”

The question barely registered. Jim was too busy staring at his best friend’s face. Tentatively, he said, “Bones?”

There was relief in the doctor’s eyes. He smiled at Jim. “That’s me. The Ambassador was worried you might have some memory issues. Your brain was pretty scrambled there, at the end.”

The end. Jim winced, rubbing his forehead. “I remember Spock…” He looked around, suddenly frantic, but the biobed beside him was empty. He hopped up, trying to swing his legs over the side, but Bones grabbed him again and pushed him back.

“Spock’s fine,” he said firmly. “The Ambassador did some damn Vulcan mind tricks with him, and he’s good as new. Got discharged yesterday.”

“How long…?”

“Were you out? About a week, plus the last couple days to sleep it off. Your brain’s been put through the wringer.”

“A week.” Jim frowned. “That can’t be right. We had to have been in there for over a month, at least. I remember-“ He cut himself off. Right. “How much of it was real?”

Bones sighed, taking a seat beside him on the edge of the bed. “Depends on what you mean by that.”

“Spock…”

“Spock was real. We found you two linked together, deep in some kind of Vulcan meld. Everything else…” he winced. “Pretty much everything else was your brain throwing shit at you, trying to make it make sense.”

“What happened?”

“You remember your last mission?”

Jim strained, forehead pinched, and then shook his head. “Sorry. Guess I’m still a bit…scrambled.”

“That’s alright. We’re pretty sure it’ll all come back, eventually.” Bones tapped his hand absently on Jim’s knee. “Your last mission, you and Spock got separated from the away team, planetside. We’re not…entirely sure what happened, maybe you licked something that didn’t agree with you-“

“Hey!”

“-but when they found you again, you looked like hell, and Spock was all melded to you, and we couldn’t wake you or get you separated. Eventually we figured out there was some weird neural activity going on, and that the link you two had was keeping it at bay.” He looked uncomfortable. “Based on what Spock remembers, it’s sounding like maybe he was trying to keep you stable, and got sucked in.”

“Keep me stable?”

“Well, our best diagnosis is ‘telepathic space virus,’” Bones snorted. “Only you, Jim.” He shook his head. “Far as I can figure, it got into your system and started gnawing at the telepathic centers of your brain.”

“But I’m psi-null.” They’d tested him at the Academy. Jim was pretty sure he’d know if he were a telepath.

Bones gave a helpless shrug. “That’s what I said! Except you had telepathic activity going on, and it wasn’t just coming from Spock! The Ambassador said something about a link, but I didn’t understand it much myself.” He stood, busying himself with Jim’s bedsheets. “Anyway, it was chewing you up pretty good, except Spock went in and sucked it out, mostly. He’s got a lot more going on up there than you, telepathically speaking, and it pretty much evened the whole thing out. Except then, as it started eating away at him, it started to do you a whole lot more harm than good.”

Jim strained, trying to remember. “The…voice. The Ambassador? He told Spock to break our bond.” A jolt went through him, a wave of nausea that had him scrambling off the bed, dry-heaving.

Bones caught him, passing him a bucket and rubbing his back. “Easy,” he cooed, and Jim kind of hated his patented Doctor Voice, but he had to admit it was soothing. “Yeah. Somehow Spock established some kind of bonding link with you, and that was keeping the virus in your mind. Breaking the link got it out, and then we could treat Spock without putting both of you at risk.” He shrugged. “I’m not really trained for this shit. That’s why we called the Ambassador. Between him and M’Benga, they sorted Spock out.”

Jim was only half-listening. He was mentally probing the back of his mind, wincing as he touched the spot where there was a gaping wound. It felt like bleeding, like something that was supposed to be there had been ripped away, and now he couldn’t stop the gushing.

Bones misread his expression. “I gave you a hypo for the pain. You’re gonna have a hell of a headache for a couple days, but it’ll go away once your brain sorts itself out.”

“Can I go?”

Bones snorted. “You’re not going back on duty, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m the captain-“ And god, didn’t it feel right to say it.

But Bones was way ahead of him. “This damn boat flew just fine without the captain for a few days, and she’ll last a few days longer. I want you on medical leave until I can be sure your head isn’t gonna cave in on itself because what little brains you had left got eaten by a space bug.”

Jim was tempted to shoot back a retort, but he had to admit he was tired. “Can’t I at least take medical leave in my quarters? I’ll go crazy if I have to stay here.”

Bones muttered something that sounded distinctly like a comment on Jim’s sanity and his own, but Jim could hear the affection in his voice, and he grinned when Bones sighed. The doctor jabbed a finger in his direction. “Your quarters. That’s it. I don’t want to hear you’ve been poking around the bridge or engineering stirring up trouble. You rest, Jim, you hear? Rest.”

“Yes, Bones.” Jim gave him a winning smile, and Bones rolled his eyes.

“Get out of my sickbay before I find another reason to keep an eye on you. And I want check-ins twice a day, Jim!” he called after, but Jim was already disappearing down the corridor.

There was something…weird about walking the halls of his ship. Jim couldn’t put it much better than that. It was like there was an overlay in his memory, so that even as he could feel the smooth bulkhead against his hand, the familiar soothing vibration against his feet, at the same time he was seeing the swirling desert sand wafted across hot sidewalks, and arching stone architecture stretching out around him. He almost did a double-take at the arboretum, images of Vulcan-Earth hybrid gardens flashing before his eyes, and then shook himself out of it. He avoided looking at Spock’s door, and most definitely did not see a sehlat doorknocker out of the corner of his eye. Instead, he punched in the code to his quarters and slipped inside.

They looked exactly like he had expected. Jim ran a hand over the desk, looking around, but it was his room, alright. No box of his father’s medals on display. No sign of George Kirk anywhere in the room. Just the captain’s quarters, with Jim’s chess set and his books, and his bed neatly made up by some yeoman while he’d been away.

He sat down on it, hard. A lump was forming in his throat, making swallowing almost impossible. He fell onto his back, staring at the ceiling, and this one wasn’t any more comforting than the one he had seen in sickbay. He rolled onto his side, staring at the bulkhead, and strained, as if there were any way he’d be able to hear Spock on the other side. He tried to picture what his first officer was doing. Spock was as resistant to medical leave as he was. Maybe he was writing up his report on the mission, Jim thought, or checking in on the progress of his projects in the science lab.

He rolled onto his back again. Or maybe, he thought, Spock was staring at the ceiling, just like he was, and trying to piece together what was real and what was fake.

He forced himself to his feet, heading for the bathroom. It was empty, and with no signs that Spock had been in there recently. Jim pressed a hand to the door that led to Spock’s room, then rested his forehead there. He closed his eyes, and for a moment just breathed. Then he stepped away, turned the shower to water, and stepped under the spray.

He was in love with Spock. That his mind had conjured up images of marriage and domestic life with his Vulcan first officer couldn’t surprise him. The details were so vivid, things about Vulcan culture that he couldn’t have possibly known – had they come from Spock’s mind, then? But the overarching theme…

Jim shuddered, heat lancing through his body, and he shut his eyes again as his cock remembered sliding against Spock, the warmth of the Vulcan’s mouth and the firm planes of his body. The fantasies weren’t new. Jim had been having them since Spock had agreed to join him on the _Enterprise_ , guilty at first because Spock was with Uhura and then guilty because they’d broken up and then finally guilty because Jim was head over heels in love with his first officer and there was no way in hell Spock could reciprocate that. It wasn’t that Vulcans didn’t feel. For Jim, there was no question that they did. But Spock had only grudgingly caved to Jim’s attempts at friendship. Anything more…

So. Guilt. Guilt because Jim couldn’t stop the fantasies, couldn’t stop himself from picturing Spock’s lips, his cock, the sounds he might make as he pumped himself into Jim’s willing body while Jim touched himself and got off on it. He wrapped a hand around himself, a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and stroked fast, bringing himself off to the thought of Spock moaning in his ear and calling him t’hy’la, whatever that meant.

Jim opened his eyes, staring at the stripes of cum already swirling down into the drain. He felt dirty, and not in the fun way. Before it had felt wrong, doing this without Spock’s knowledge. But now…Jim sucked in a shuddering breath, and pretended it wasn’t a sob he was choking back, because _oh god,_ now Spock _knew._ They’d been melded, had lived that life together, that life Jim had imagined, with bonding and sex and a kid-

T’Kiha. _Fuck_. Jim scrubbed at his eyes, trying to banish her crying face from his mind. This was fucked up. He was fucked up, tying all of these things together in his mind, tying _Spock_ to them, and now Spock knew and he was never going to speak to Jim again.

Jim forced himself to take a deep breath, reaching for the soap and moving through the motions of washing without feeling any of it. No. Spock was a professional. He would speak to Jim. He would speak to him on the bridge, and at staff briefings, and on away missions. He would advise Jim, telling him when he was making a stupid discussion, taking unnecessary risks. He’d do his job as a Starfleet Officer.

He wouldn’t play chess in Jim’s quarters. Wouldn’t indulge his conversations in the mess. Wouldn’t spar with Jim or be goaded into playing the Vulcan lyre for him or do any of the million little interactions a day that Jim coveted, treasuring each and every second that he was the center of Spock’s attention. Spock would be professional, but he wouldn’t be a friend.

Jim turned the water off and shivered. Without thinking about it, he switched it back over to the sonic setting and slipped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair.

He didn’t hear footsteps behind him. He didn’t hear a second door slide open, or a figure step through, pausing on the threshold, uncertain.

***

_Somewhere, a little girl was crying. Jim could hear her, but he couldn’t see her, lost in a maze of ship’s corridors that turned into garden hedges, hung with blue and gold flowers on scraggly vines that withered and turned to dust, swirling around his feet and tripping him._

_He sprawled face-first into the dirt, staring at a pair of Starfleet-issue boots, and then looked up to see Spock, his science officer uniform half-hidden beneath the robes of the VSA, staring down at him. Jim tried to reach out, but Spock turned, striding deeper into the hedges, until he was lost from view._

***

Jim woke up with a gasp, clutching at his chest. The crying was still echoing in his ears, resolving itself into the chime of the communications system. He hauled himself up with a groan, and then answered it. “Kirk here.”

“Sleep well?”

Jim groaned. “Bones-“

“I told you I wanted check-ins. You didn’t respond last night.”

“I was sleeping.” Not well, but still. Jim rubbed his eyes, shoving the covers back and resting his feet on the floor. “Can this wait? It’s too early for sickbay.”

Bones harrumphed. “Fine. But I want you in by 0900, you hear? Gotta make sure the captain isn’t losing the marbles he’s got left.”

“Thanks for your support, Bones,” Jim groaned, flopping back onto his bed. “Computer, time?”

“The time is 0728.”

He groaned again, then sighed. “Lights up to seventy percent.” He squinted as the computer complied, forcing himself to his feet and moving over to the closet. He fingered the gold fabric of the row of uniforms before him, toying with the bars on the sleeves. He wanted a tunic, he was startled to realize. Something light blue, that wrapped around him, the fabric soft and flowing.

He snagged a green shirt that belted at the waist with the Starfleet insignia, throwing it over his head with abandon. It wasn’t the same, but it was close enough.

He was still in his boxers, half brushing his teeth, half hopping into his pants when the door chimed. Around the toothbrush, so the words burbled and came out muffled, he called, “I swear to god, Bones, if you’re making house calls now-“

“Is this a bad time?”

Jim nearly fell over, tripping over a pant leg. “Ambassador! Hang on!” He hopped back into the bathroom, the door sliding shut behind him, spitting into the sink and wrestling his pants on right, so that when he stepped out again, he could actually smile without blushing in embarrassment. “It’s good to see you again.”

There was amusement in the old Vulcan’s face, not just in the eyes but stretching down to the lips, settling comfortably in the wrinkles of laugh lines that were probably older than Jim was. At Jim’s gesture, he swept into the room, taking a seat at Jim’s desk. “It has been too long, old friend.”

Jim dropped into the seat across from him. “I know. Life of a Starfleet captain. I go where they send me.” He drummed his fingers against the desk. “How’s New Vulcan?”

“Things are progressing admirably,” Spock said. “I am glad, as always, to be of service to my people.” He tilted his head, lifting his eyebrows slightly. “And you?”

Jim let out a self-conscious laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you know. I’m all in one piece, thanks to you.”

“Doctor McCoy’s medical skills had a hand in it as well.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Jim grinned. “He’d never let my Spock hear the end of it.”

The claiming word punched through him without warning, and he nearly choked on it. The hole in the back of his head throbbed, and he winced.

“Jim…”

He waved the Vulcan off. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“It is not nothing.” The amusement had gone, replaced by a deep sorrow. “If we had more time…if there had been any other path…”

“You saved my life, Spock. Don’t apologize for it.”

“I am not apologizing for saving your life. That, I do not regret. The steps we took were logical.” He looked away, towards the chess set still left out, halfway through a game, but his eyes were even farther away. “I recall the pain of losing my own bondmate. It is an agony enough to drive some Vulcans mad.”

Jim stiffened. His gaze dropped to the table, watching his hands fidget. “Spock wasn’t…he wasn’t really…”

“That is where you’re wrong.” Jim blinked, looking up, and Spock continued, “Spock was your bondmate, even if only briefly. You were linked, as surely as if a practiced healer had bonded you together. More surely, in fact.”

“What are you talking about? Spock and I have melded before-“

“There is a difference. Bonding and melding are not the same, although they both take place in the mind. One cannot bond on accident-“

“But we did!” Jim cut in. “We had to! Bonding…that’s like marriage. Spock wouldn’t have done that with me on purpose.”

“That is true,” the Ambassador acknowledged with an incline of his head, “My younger self would not have established a bonding link intentionally.”

“But you just said-“

“You were melded at the deepest levels, Jim. Spock was at the most central parts of your being, and he could not help but bond with you.”

Jim snorted. “Great. So I coerced a guy into marriage just by licking an alien plant.” He slumped back in the chair, picking up a pawn and turning it over in his fingers.

Spock sat forward. “You misunderstand. This bond would be formed instinctually, on both your parts. The t’hy’la bond-“

“T’hy’la. That’s like, a Vulcan endearment, right? Like ashayam?”

Spock hesitated. “Yes. And no. It is a term of affection, but it is not one that all Vulcans can use. It applies only to a very rare, very special kind of bond. The kind of bond that cannot help completing itself when the opportunity arises. This is why the virus attacked you, Jim. In your melds with Spock, the link had already begun establishing itself. This incident merely…completed it.”

Thinking too hard about the link was making Jim nauseous again. He pushed it down, swallowing back the bile. “But it’s gone now. Spock broke it.”

The pain came back into the older Vulcan’s eyes. “Yes. It is…nearly impossible to sever a t’hy’la bond, particularly without killing one or both parties involved. That it was so new was likely the only reason you could survive it.”

“But you told Spock-“

“It was our best chance at saving you. I calculated the odds. They were in our favor.”

“Right.” Jim tapped the chess piece against the table. The click against the metal was soothing. “Spock’s…he’s okay, right? I mean, I’m basically psi-null without a Vulcan poking around in my head. He…he’s gotta be feeling this more, right?”

“Indeed. As you feel pain where the link is gone, so too does he, and more of it. His mind is accustomed to having a bonding link, and has been since childhood.” The Ambassador folded his hands together. “When our planet died, Spock’s bondmate died with it.”

“T’Pring.” The name came automatically, even though they’d never spoken of it. Not in the real world, anyway.

“Yes. But you were there, and you had enough of a link that Spock’s mind could heal itself. In a way, your bond shielded him from further pain.”

“Good.”

Spock smiled at the firmness of Jim’s voice. “There is still a question you have not asked me, Jim.”

“Pretty sure there’s a lot of questions I haven’t asked you.”

Spock raised his eyebrows, and Jim couldn’t help the smile that pressed itself to his lips. “Yeah, alright, I’ll bite. What question?”

“What does t’hy’la truly mean?”

Jim hesitated. “You said it’s a bond. A special one. Not a lot of Vulcans have it, and it made me and Spock bond automatically. I don’t…is there more?”

“There is a special meaning to the word. One which I think you already know, because Spock knows it.”

“You mean, you think I got it in the link?” Jim shook his head. “I don’t…I’m not sure how much of the stuff came from Spock, and how much came from me, you know? I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Perhaps you could begin by asking him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Guilt. Stabbing, roiling guilt. Jim’s stomach heaved. “Because he’ll hate me.”

“No.” The Ambassador smiled, and shook his head. “Spock could never hate you.”

“He’s not you.”

“I am aware. But I lost my t’hy’la several times over, and it was only that I lost him in increments that allowed me to continue on without him. And the pain…that will always linger.” Spock fixed him with a serious expression, eyes as deep as the black hole that tore him from his universe, and just as dark. “My younger self is prideful, but I do not think even he can resist that call.” He stood. “I should be going. There are places I am still needed.”

Jim stood too, offering the ta’al. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“To you, old friend, I will never be that.” He returned the salute. “Live long and prosper, Jim.”

“Live long and prosper.”

The Ambassador stepped out. Jim looked down at his hand. The pawn was still cupped in his palm. He set it back on the board, and gave in to the urge to dry-heave in the bathroom. If this was the new order of things, even Bones’s hyposprays didn’t seem so bad.

The Ambassador meant well, Jim was sure. But he wasn’t Spock, wasn’t _Jim’s_ Spock (and that thought was enough to send another round of bile shooting up his throat). His Spock barely wanted him as a friend. There was no way he wanted Jim as a husband.

He reported to sickbay as ordered, although he dragged his feet enough to get there seven minutes after Bones had demanded his presence. Bones seemed to have expected that, nabbing him by the door and frog-marching him to the biobeds, where he sat Jim down and proceeded to stick him with hyposprays. Jim would have complained, but the first one already had his headache receding.

“How are you feeling?” Bones asked him when the silence stretched on. He sounded a little unnerved, although he was hiding it well, and Jim didn’t blame him. It was rare he was this quiet in sickbay, save for when he was unconscious.

He shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Now I know something’s wrong.”

“What?”

Bones gestured at him with a tricorder. “If you were really fine, I’d be tearing my hair out trying to get you to stay still. You’re quiet as the dead today.”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Well, that’s to be expected.” Bones ran the device along his head. “You’re still knocking everything back into place up there. Things sorting themselves out?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think so.” He turned, and Bones nearly clipped his nose with the scanner. “I talked to the Ambassador.”

Bones snorted. “It’s just weird seeing a Vulcan with feelings.”

“They feel.”

“Well, if they do, they don’t show it. Maybe it’s an alternate universe thing. Or maybe they just give up and go crazy when they get to be his age. He ain’t exactly a spring chicken.” Bones snapped the medical tricorder off. “What’d you talk about?”

Jim rubbed his thighs. “Just stuff. Spock. That whole mind link thing he did.”

Bones huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that was something else. But, far as I can tell, it’s all sorted itself out. Your head is 100% thick-skulled Jim Kirk again.”

Jim hesitated. “The virus…all those memories…”

“Far as we can tell, that’s how the damn thing operates.” Bones shook his head and punched something into the computer. “It has to stimulate the telepathic pathways, get the juices flowing so it can eat. Mind you, that’s just our guess. We don’t have much of a clue what to do with it, we just know that it’s gone now.”

“So, the memories were, what, some shared hallucination?”

“Near as we can figure, it took a little of you and a little of Spock…well, a lot of you both, especially Spock, and mixed it all up so you had something to stimulate your responses. We saw a lot of the same neurons firing, so we can figure you were experiencing pretty close to the same thing.”

“Right…” Jim shook his head. There was something about it that was nagging at him. “Why didn’t it just show us our life? I mean, on the _Enterprise._ ”

Bones blinked. He frowned. “I figured that’s what you were seeing. Wasn’t like we could put it up on a monitor. You telling me it just spun out something different?”

“We were on Vulcan.” The images were fuzzy, fading fast from his mind. Some of them. Not all. “We lived there…me and Spock and…” Not her, don’t think about her. “And Spock’s parents, they were both alive. I saw his mom. And my dad…he and my mom were still in Starfleet. The _Enterprise_ was theirs…” Jim strained, trying to pick at the threads while avoiding the gaping wounds. “I…I was a scientist, and Spock worked for the VSA. We were…normal, I guess. Normal life outside of Starfleet.”

“Huh.” Bones sat back against his desk, crossing his arms. He shook his head. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. All I know is, it all had to come from the two of you.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“It’s like dreams.” Bones pushed off the desk. He had a hypospray in his hand again, and Jim eyed it suspiciously. “You can’t actually make up a face in your dreams. It’s all gotta be someone you’ve seen, maybe in a crowd or a holofilm. Bits and pieces your memory saved in its subconscious, just in case it needed it.” Bones rapped his knuckles against the biobed frame. “Virus didn’t pull anything out of your head that wasn’t there to begin with. Might have changed some things around a bit, but the basis had to be there.”

Jim’s chest had tightened, and he clenched his fists in his lap, trying to pretend he still had air in his lungs. Finally, he managed, “That’s…weird.”

“Hey, it’s your head.” Bones grinned at him. “Why? What’d you dream about that got you twisted up like this?”

Jim forced himself to smile, that cocky smirk he knew Bones would expect from him at his best. “Oh, you know. Wasn’t allergic to strawberries.” He paused, almost mockingly, as if thinking hard. “Wasn’t allergic to anything actually.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

“And there was this Vulcan doctor. He had the _damnedest_ accent, and he was really mean with the hyposprays. Funny, he kind of reminded me of-“ Jim broke off, laughing, as Bones threw a few curse words and a rude gesture in his direction, hopping off the bed and ducking out of sickbay before the doctor could register anymore protests. Once out of sight of the doors, however, the smile dropped from his face. He nodded to a passing ensign and leaned against the wall, his body suddenly heavy. It was a long walk back to his quarters.

***

It was late when the door to his quarters chimed. It couldn’t be Bones, because Jim had been good and done his second check-in as ordered, and it couldn’t be the Ambassador, because he had transported off the ship hours earlier. Which left only a small number of options for who it could be, and all of them filled Jim with dread. He prayed it was “yeoman” and answered the door.

Spock looked trapped on the threshold. His hands were clasped tight behind his back, and he was clad in a traditional Vulcan meditation robe – one Jim recognized, despite never having seen his first officer so informally dressed – his jaw tight and his eyes just a fraction too wide. It was as if Jim had shone a bright light in his face.

“Spock,” he said, like an idiot.

“I…wished to ascertain your level of well-being, Captain.”

“Oh.”

“May I enter?”

“Oh!” Jim stumbled backwards, ushering Spock inside. “Sorry, it’s been…it’s been a day. Week. Month, really.” He snapped his mouth shut, still standing by the now-closed door, staring at Spock. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Spock looked around. He seemed as much at a loss as Jim, which was…something. It wasn’t anger, at any rate, and Jim would take whatever scraps he could get. Spock moved over to the chess set, picking up a knight and turning it over in his hands before setting it back down again. “Jim-“

“Spock-“

They both stopped. Finally, Jim offered, “I talked to the Ambassador this morning.”

Spock inclined his head. “My…older self sought me out, as well.”

“He’s…he’s something else, isn’t he?” Jim laughed a little, awkward and with more than a hint of self-deprecation. “Sorry. I…”

“I too find myself at a loss. What we experienced…”

God, they were really going to do this, weren’t they? Jim sighed, stepping towards the bed and then taking a sharp turn so he ended up pressed against the wall. “I’m so, so sorry, Spock.”

“It is I who should be apologizing. I bonded us without your consent-“

“You were trying to save my life, Spock, and you saddled yourself to someone you hate in the process!”

“I do not hate you.”

“Right.” Jim laughed again, with no more humor than before. “We’re friends now. But, I mean, I can’t have been your first choice.”

“In technicality, no. However, my ‘first choice’ was not a particularly agreeable one, and regardless, you know of her fate.”

Jim looked away, a lump in his throat. “That was private. I didn’t have any right to be going through your head like that.”

“It is…disconcerting that you know some things that Vulcans do not speak of,” Spock allowed. “My…Time, for example.”

“Have you-“ Jim cut himself off. “Right. Personal.”

Spock stared at the floor. The tips of his ears went green. Jim pretended that he didn’t know just how deep that flush could go. “I have not yet experienced my Time,” Spock mumbled. “We…were not certain that I would. Not until the Ambassador…” He coughed, discreetly. “What I mean to say is, if there were one person I would entrust my innermost knowledge to, Jim, it would be you.”

Jim’s mouth fell open, and he closed it. “I…I’m honored.” He twisted his fingers together. “I feel the same way. I mean, I know my head probably wasn’t a picnic-“

“The…virus appears to have avoided painful memories. Tarsus…your step-father…” Spock hesitated. “What I have seen, I will not share with anyone-“

“Yeah, no, of course not!” Jim said quickly. “Me either. It’s personal.”

“Precisely.”

“It would be wrong to share it.”

“Jim…” Spock swallowed. He looked at the floor again, and then back up at Jim. There was a vulnerability to him, Jim realized with a start. One he had rarely seen in the Vulcan before, in memories real or false.

“It hurts,” Jim said softly when Spock didn’t. He tapped his temple. “In here, right?”

“I…yes.”

“I never…I never wanted you to find out. I didn’t want to hurt our friendship.”

Spock’s brow furrowed, just slightly. “I do not…understand…”

“All that,” Jim waved a hand vaguely. “The…the marriage, and the kid, and the sex-“ He flinched. “Just, all of it. It’s invasive, and stupid, and they’re just fantasies, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you have to…” His voice was shaking, his breath coming in unevenly. “You’re my best friend, Spock, other than Bones, and I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

“Jim,” Spock breathed. He took a step forward, and then stood there, rocking forward on the balls of his feet. “I believed I was alone.”

“I- What?”

Spock was staring at him, and there was something in his eyes, something hesitant, but shining out nonetheless. “I could not express to you how I…how I felt. I was unsure if you reciprocated. I believed the fantasy…the bondmate, the child…the rest of the life was my desire, my home and my mother, everything I had wanted. I had assumed the rest…”

“You…” Jim felt suddenly unsteady. He was sure his knees would give out at any moment. “You wanted it too?”

Spock was, impossibly, nodding. Jim was half convinced he was still fevered. He couldn’t have woken up, couldn’t be rid of the virus if Spock was still coming here, was still saying…

“T’hy’la,” Spock murmured, and there was reverence in his voice. “I cherish thee.”

A shudder went through Jim’s body. “T’hy’la,” he repeated, quietly, because there was so much weight on the word that he couldn’t carry it at full volume. “It means…”

“Never and always touching and touched,” Spock whispered. “Always together, never parted.” He took a step forward, and then another, and he was almost close enough for Jim to feel his body heat, radiating like a furnace on the much-colder _Enterprise_. “It means friend, and brother, and lover. It means soulmate. It means you are _mine_.”

Jim snapped, surging forward and grabbing Spock with both hands, cradling the Vulcan’s head and pressing their lips together. It was messy, noses bumping and teeth clashing, and then Spock tilted his head and moaned, mouth opening, letting Jim in, and then it was _perfect._ Jim couldn’t get close enough, swiping his tongue over Spock’s, breathing his air, feeling the hot, hard press of the Vulcan’s body against his, and then suddenly they were moving backwards, and his knees hit the bed and he sat down hard, eyes wide in shock as Spock went to his knees, pressing desperate kisses to Jim’s stomach, rucking up his shirt to get at the skin. Jim stripped it over his head without question, throwing it to the side somewhere, grabbing Spock’s shoulders and holding on as the Vulcan’s teeth scraped at him, nuzzling into the juncture of his thigh and oh god Jim had never been so hard so fast in his _life_.

“Wait,” he panted. “Wait, Spock.”

“Captain,” Spock murmured, still pressing kisses, moving closer to the bulge in Jim’s pants, and god, Jim had to stop this before he did something he’d regret. He pushed Spock away, gently, and Vulcan strength caved to him. Spock looked up at him from between his knees, and Jim almost melted at the sight that made.

He cradled Spock’s cheek with one hand. “I’m not…Spock, I can’t be your captain here.”

Spock looked suddenly unsure. “I…remember the fantasy-“

But Jim shook his head. He stroked his thumb over Spock’s soft skin, gently touching the point of one ear, eyes widening as it made a shiver roll through the Vulcan’s body. “I know,” he said. “But that’s not…that was there. This is…this is here, and I can’t…Spock, I can’t…”

He bent, pressing a kiss to the top of the Vulcan’s head, burying it in the jet-black locks. “It’s different,” he said, so soft that it was almost lost. “We had time there. Here, this is the first.”

Spock tilted his head up, turning and pressing a kiss to Jim’s thumb. He covered Jim’s hand with his own. “I understand, t’hy’la.”

“If it’s something you want-“

“It can wait,” Spock said firmly, and then he was moving up and pressing Jim back onto the bed, pushing him up so that there was room for him between Jim’s thighs, hips lowered to press an answering hardness against Jim’s own.

Jim groaned, arching up into it, and clutching at fistfuls of the Vulcan’s robe. “This…this needs to come off.”

 _Then take it off_.

“ _Fuck._ ” Jim fumbled for the clasps, shoving it down and off of Spock’s shoulders, baring the Vulcan’s form. As if in answer to his thoughts, Spock reared back, letting Jim drink in the sight of him: long, lean body flushed green with exertion, emerald cock standing rigid, already glossy and leaking slick. Jim followed him up to touch, rubbing his thumb under the second ridge to watch Spock moan and twitch his hips into it, a half-memory making him wrap his hands around to press at the swell of Spock’s lower back, a firm pressure on his chenesi that made Spock cry out with pleasure. Jim wrapped his hand more firmly around Spock’s erection, pumping it, relishing the easy glide of his fist. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Spock growled, and then Jim yelped as he was forcibly thrown, bouncing against the mattress before Spock was on him again, tearing off the rest of Jim’s clothes and biting savagely at his lips, wrapping one of Jim’s legs up over his hip so he could rut more fully against him. _Do not tease, t’hy’la._

“Not…not teasing…” Jim panted. He threw back his head, groaning as Spock moved to his neck, sucking bruising kisses into it. _Fuck, don’t stop._

_I wish to be inside you._

_Oh fuck, yes._ Jim flailed a hand out, fumbling for the nightstand, but Spock caught it and pinned it over his head. “ _Spock_.”

“There is no need.” Spock reached between them, gripping his own cock, his hand coming away slick, and yeah, Vulcan biology was basically the best thing Jim had ever seen. He moaned as Spock pressed a finger to his hole, circling it gently and then pushing in to the first knuckle. Spock hissed. _You’re tight._

“Dream sex just doesn’t loosen you up like the real thing,” Jim joked, and he delighted in the rumble of Spock’s laughter moving through him. His free hand found a home on the back of Spock’s neck and held there. “I’m not going to break.”

“You are human.” But Spock’s voice was strained, and became even more so when Jim clenched, rocking his hips back against the finger Spock had inside him. Jim grinned. Sensitive hands.

“Human,” he said. “Not fragile.” He stole a kiss from Spock’s lips. “Come on, babe. Don’t you want to know if the real thing is better?”

Spock growled, low in his throat, and that was starting to get up there as one of Jim Kirk’s Favorite Noises of All Time. He pulled his hand away, slicking it again, and then the finger was back, pressing deeper, pumping in and out and Jim panted, clutching so tight to Spock that he was probably leaving nail marks in his skin but that was okay because this was _real_. Spock added a second finger, twisting and scissoring them apart. _Your body welcomes me._

_I’m yours, Spock, always._

Spock groaned. He captured Jim’s lips again, sucking at his tongue. _I want…t’hy’la, I need…_

_You burn for me? You want to be inside me? You can, I’m almost ready for you. Gonna take all of you in, Spock, gonna make you feel so good._

_Jim_. Spock keened, and there was a third finger at Jim’s hole now, pressing insistently in, and it burned a little but Jim didn’t mind, relaxing as best he could to let Spock work.

“I know,” he gasped out between kisses, “I know, babe, I know.” He twisted the hand that Spock had pinned, and Spock let up enough that Jim could thread their fingers together, squeezing tight. “Am I open enough now? Think it’ll fit?”

 _Jim._ And there was more urgency now, Jim could feel it, buzzing between their skin as Spock fought for what little control he had left.

“It’s okay,” Jim whispered. _It’s okay, I’m ready._

“You-“ And Spock was gasping for air, burying his face against Jim’s chest. “Should we-“

Jim took Spock’s hand and pressed it to his face. _All of you in me. All of you, Spock, always._

 _Yes!_ Spock’s mind cried out, and then lunged, and Jim’s mouth fell open in a silent shout and Spock yanked his fingers out, gripping his cock and pressing the head against Jim’s hole, shoving in until the second ridge caught, a keen building up in the Vulcan’s throat, his free hand scrambling to meet the meld points on Jim’s face and then they were falling together, Spock sinking into Jim’s mind and vice versa and Jim was startled to realize that as Spock shoved his way in that he could feel not only the hot, blunt shaft forcing its way into his passage but the glorious tightness wrapped around his own cock as he fucked deeper inside.

 _Oh god_.

_Jim. T’hy’la._

_Spock, fuck, please._

Spock moved, and it was like they were moving together, both in Jim’s body and both in Spock’s, pleasure redoubling as Jim threw back his head and cried out, Spock grunting as he pumped his hips, adjusting the angle until he nailed Jim’s prostate and sent stars bursting behind both of their eyelids. Golden threads were wrapping around them, binding them together, and Jim’s balls were so tight and so full he thought they were going to burst. He wrapped his legs around Spock’s waist, digging in his heels, and Spock let out a feral sound as they pressed against his lower back, his hand going to Jim’s thigh and gripping so hard Jim knew it would bruise, pounding in with renewed vigor. Under his breath and in Jim’s mind he was chanting, low Vulcan words that were half guttural snarl, that Jim didn’t understand but recognized as _love_ and _need_ and _mine_.

 _Come on, babe,_ Jim called back to him. _Come on, t’hy’la. You’re close, aren’t you? I want to feel you come, want you to claim me._

_Mine!_

_Yours, babe, yours, always, come on, Spock, come on!_

Spock howled, head tipped back, mouth open, eyes closed, and Jim gasped and screamed as the Vulcan slammed himself home and came, hard, pumping waves of semen into Jim’s body that filled him up and forced its way out of his abused hole around Spock’s thick cock. Spock slumped, panting, against Jim’s chest, and Jim pet his hair, his own cock still aching. Spock was still half in his mind, and his orgasm had definitely pulled _something_ out of Jim, but his balls were still tight and he tried not to shift, mindful of his partner’s sensitivity. He pressed a tentative thought across the link, and Spock murmured an apology, easing himself out and sliding down Jim’s body with lithe grace, swallowing him down to the root, and swallowing again when Jim came, licking up every drop before he pulled away and finally came up to lie beside his bondmate.

Jim tentatively probed the link. He could feel it in the back of his mind, where the hole had been, patched up and shining and stronger than it had been before. Spock let out a rumbling huff, amusement skating across the bond, and a smile bloomed across Jim’s face. _Can you hear me?_

_Yes, t’hy’la._

He pulled away, scooting into a seated position so they weren’t touching. _How about now?_

 _Yes, Jim, I can still hear you._ Spock turned onto his side, propping his head up under one arm.

“So, the way it worked in the dream…?”

“Is much the way Vulcan telepathy works for bondmates in life, yes. However, it will not work across great distances.”

“Across the ship?”

“Perhaps, but unlikely.”

Jim flopped down next to Spock, mirroring his pose and grinning. “Even though we’ve got a super-special soulmate bond?”

He could feel the eyeroll. “Yes, Jim. Even though we have a t’hy’la bond. It is uncommon, not all-powerful.”

“Seems pretty powerful to me. It saved my life, didn’t it?”

“It nearly killed you,” Spock correctly. He reached out, stroking Jim’s face. “I cannot, however, be displeased with the results.”

Jim caught Spock’s hand and kissed it. “I know what you mean.” He went silent, thinking. “What is this going to mean for us?”

“Specify.”

“You know.” Jim swallowed, lowering his eyes away from Spock’s face. “It’s not…it’s not like it was in the dream. Vulcan is destroyed. Don’t they need you off making baby Vulcans?”

“Even if they did, and it is not guaranteed that they would want my genes reintroduced into the pool, there are ways I can contribute them without taking a Vulcan mate.”

“Starfleet regulations-“

“May discourage captains from forming relationships with their first officers, but have no official rules against it.” There was mirth in Spock’s voice. “Additionally, they have exceptions for bonded partners. They cannot separate us.”

“That’s…good, then.” Jim turned onto his back, resting a hand over his stomach. “This all feels so surreal. I keep expecting to wake up back in sickbay again.”

“I assure you, it is real.” Spock cuddled up to him, nuzzling into his neck. He rubbed two fingers along Jim’s arm in a Vulcan kiss. _I am with you, Jim. Always._

Jim smiled. It was small, but it was real. “You know,” he teased. “At the risk of sounding cheesy, sex with you feels like the first time all over again.”

“ _Goodnight,_ Jim.”

_Goodnight, Spock._

This time, Jim didn’t dream.

In the morning, Spock found him at his desk, a scattering of PADDs littering the space around him. He had gotten up in the middle of the night, rested but uneasy. Something Bones had said was lingering with him, something that had driven him to leave his bondmate’s warm embrace and turn on the computer. He’d been stationed at the terminal for well over an hour now, staring at the screen. He barely moved at Spock’s approach, save to lean into the touch Spock stroked across his shoulders.

“Ashayam? Are you well?”

“Fine. Just…thinking.”

Spock picked up the nearest PADD. “Solok,” he said, and understanding colored my voice. “He was the healer who tended to me as a child.”

Jim tapped another PADD. “Professor Toyari Azei. I read her work at the Academy.” Another PADD. “Doctors T’Mura and Ivressih Sh’taasros. I saw them on the list of guest speakers for the Altair conference next month.” Another. “Ensign Peter McCallan.” Jim swallowed hard. “Assigned to the _Farragut_. Dead.”

Spock took in the stack of PADDs. There were plenty more where those had come from. Jim had wracked his brain, straining to make a list of every name he could remember. He’d found them all.

“They were not as we knew them,” Spock said quietly. “Our unconscious minds filled in the gaps.”

“Yeah.” Jim stared at the computer terminal, scrolling idly.

“Jim?”

He looked at Spock. There was concern in his bondmate’s eyes, and Jim was struck by how easy it was to call him that. The memories had been fake. It had all been fake. But the feelings were real.

Wordlessly, he turned the screen so it faced Spock. “Vulcan orphans list.”

Spock faltered. “I…I have read it.”

It landed on a profile. Jim could only look at it out of the corner of his eye. The eyes were a deep brown, the curl in the hair much less pronounced, but the face was unmistakable. “It’s her, Spock.”

A wave of longing swept across the link, so that even though Spock’s breath didn’t hitch, Jim’s did, before Spock got control of himself once again. “She is not our daughter, Jim.”

He spun towards Spock. “Isn’t she, though?”

“She does not know us, and we do not know her.”

“So what?” Jim sat forward. “Do any parents really know their kids?”

“This is not the time for an attempt at philosophy-“

“ _Spock._ ” Jim’s voice broke. He reached out, pleading, and Spock allowed him to take his hands. “It’s our little girl.”

They both turned to look at the screen. T’Kiha’s chin was lifted, her eyes big as she stared out at them. “Starfleet will not like a child on a starship,” Spock murmured. “And Vulcan may not wish to give up one of its children to us.”

“Starfleet can fuck right off,” Jim said. “We need her, Spock. And call me crazy, but I think she needs us.”

Spock wavered, and then broke. “I will put in a call to the Ambassador. Perhaps…we can arrange a meeting.” He cautioned, “She will not be the same, Jim. She will not be the child we have imagined.”

“Maybe not,” Jim agreed. “But that’s okay. I’ll love her anyway.”

“Your heart is larger than you would have people believe, ashayam.”

“Mr. Spock,” Jim grinned, hauling his bondmate in for a long, sweet kiss, “you have no idea.”


End file.
